


Oikogeneia: Of Curses and Kids

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Adult Albus and Scorpius, Adventure, Angst, Curses, Domestic, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, M/M, Mystery, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 86,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: Albus and Scorpius are looking forward to a rare day off together. They're planning a day of coffee and pastries, and important life discussions; now they've been married for several years they've decided the time has come to talk about starting a family. But when a simple Auror raid goes disastrously wrong, their day off is thrown into turmoil, and they find themselves plunged together into a world of mysterious deaths and terrifying curses, which will test their relationship more than it's ever been tested before...





	1. Smoke and Shattered Glass

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this fic for just over a year now, and I've had the idea for it pretty much since I joined the fandom. I vividly remember the day I came up with it, just after seeing the play for the second time back in July 2016. It's been a tough one to write (I've abandoned it about five times), but I'm so happy it's finally done and I can't wait to share it with you all! Apologies for the angst... Trust me, it'll be okay in the end. It always is. 
> 
> Special thanks go, as always, to the inimitable Abradystrix, without whom I could never cause you all the pain I do. She's a terrible enabler, and I love her for it. 
> 
> Note: This is NOT a WIP. The fic is complete; I just like causing people pain with my cliffhangers. Updates will be every Friday in the afternoon UK time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Scorpius's day off is interrupted by an untimely call from Harry, and Scorpius has to pick up the pieces when Albus's emergency raid goes disastrously wrong...

> **οικογένεια**  | (oikogéneia)
> 
> From the Ancient Greek  _οἰκογενής_  (oikogenḗs, “born in the house”).
> 
> ###  Noun
> 
>   1. family 
>   2. household 
>   3. kin 
> 


*

The night is pitch black and completely still. A substance like smoke trickles from the shattered windows of the abandoned manor house. The three figures crouching against the hedge hardly dare breathe. Their hearts pound with adrenaline, every sinew poised to throw them into action as soon as the moment arrives. 

The smallest of the three, their leader, surveys the scene, then silently beckons to the other two, and they flit from shadow to shadow across the wild bit of lawn, almost invisible, the darkness seeming to cling to them like cloaks. 

There is no lock on the door, in fact it's standing slightly ajar. As the three slip inside, they're careful not to push the door any further open, in case it creaks, and the leader waves to her companions to stay still just inside the door. She draws her wand and directs it silently at the floor, sweeping out towards the rickety staircase. Now, when they move forward, they do so without a single sound. 

From the bottom of the stairs, looking up to the second floor, they can see a film of smoke flowing across the ceiling. There's something unnatural about it, the way it clings up there, like it takes comfort in the crumbling plaster-work and damaged light fittings, like it's afraid to come within reach of the ground. 

The leader assesses the surroundings, then glances at her team. She points to the two of them and gestures upwards, then she points between herself and the corridor leading further into the downstairs. 

They separate, two creeping up the stairs, one stooping low as she darts from cover to cover down the hallway. With every room she comes to, she stands in a safe position by the doorway, checking around, then she darts round the corner, wand out, and makes sure the room is clear. After she's done she closes and locks the door, and marks it with a fiery X. If anyone goes into those rooms once she's cleared them, she'll know immediately. 

She's just finished surveying the kitchen – examining a few specks of blood on the dusty work surfaces before locking and marking the door – when the first sound she's heard since she arrived here rents the air. 

A scream from upstairs. 

She looks up, heart racing. 

The scream dies, and for a moment longer there's pure silence, then chaos reigns.

Running footsteps. Shouted spells. Someone yelling. A high-pitched voice wailing with fear. Bangs and cracks. 

Lights flash through the house, and she sets off sprinting. She runs flat-out down the hall, clatters up the stairs, and straight into the fight. She finds herself duelling two people at once. Somewhere nearby she can hear someone sobbing. The smoke has cleared all of a sudden, like it's been wafted away on the breeze.

The duel moves from room to room, people darting and dodging for cover, blasting away chunks of old plaster and wood. The floorboards explode, leaving a gaping, splintered hole. Two of the team get cornered in a room with a tree outside and a small, trembling shadow of a person curled up in the corner. They ram the door shut, and for a brief moment there's silence. 

Then the door explodes inwards. In the ensuing madness of spells and dust and shouting, weeks of carefully laid plans disintegrate into rubble, and smoke, and shattered glass. 

 

Albus lays his head on Scorpius's chest and closes his eyes. It's one of those rare Sunday mornings where neither of them has to go to work, and they intend to make the most of it. The bed is warm and comfortable. The curtains are open a crack, letting golden sunlight stream down onto them as they lie there in a tangled mess of blankets.

Scorpius strokes Albus's hair, curling it round his fingers. "Don't go back to sleep." 

Albus opens one eye. "Give me a good reason not to." 

"We said we'd go to that bakery down the road for breakfast. Pastries, Albus. Croissants. Custard Crowns. Pain au Chocolat." He tickles Albus's side, and Albus squirm away an inch. "If you go to sleep again we'll never get there." 

Albus groans. "You go. Bring me breakfast in bed." 

"This happens every single time we have a day off," Scorpius complains, ruffling Albus's hair so it sticks up at the back. 

Albus bats his hand away and starts smoothing it down again. "Because we're lazy," he says.

"Because _you're_ lazy," Scorpius counters. "They'll have coffee. I bet they have really good coffee. I bet they have the best coffee in the whole-"

Albus sits up. "Fine." He rubs his eyes and turns to look at Scorpius. "I'm up. Happy now?" 

Scorpius beams. "Definitely. The happiest." He bounces out of bed and starts rummaging through his wardrobe, humming to himself as he does.

Albus gathers the blankets round his waist and admires his husband's body. The long, slim legs that seem to go on for miles, the gentle curve of his back, an ass that is a bit flat and bony but still glorious in its own way, blond hair that's growing out a bit, and falls in soft wisps, curling gently where it meets the base of his neck. He's never going to be the most elegant of people, and even now he sometimes seems surprised by the length of his limbs, but he's rather beautiful when he's like this. During carefree mornings, when they're alone together and he's completely sure and confident in himself. These are the moments when Albus feels most enchanted with him. 

"You know," Scorpius says, comparing two almost identical pairs of dark grey trousers. "We couldn't do this if we had kids."

Albus smiles and stops staring at Scorpius's ass. He leans forward on his hands. "I thought we decided to talk about that another day." 

Scorpius glances round at him. "This is another day. And I'm not saying we should talk about it now, although we could. I was just... Noting some pros and cons. If we had kids they'd be screaming the place down by now." 

"You should write them down," Albus says. "The pros and cons. You should make a list." 

"I already have a list," Scorpius says, turning back to the wardrobe. He picks out one of the two pairs of trousers and pale green t-shirt, and starts getting dressed. "I started it a year ago." 

Albus blinks at him. "You didn't tell me you'd done that." 

"I didn't want you to think I was mad," Scorpius says, pulling the t-shirt over his head. It hangs loose on his frame, and it's the perfect colour for him. Scorpius may not be adventurous in the style of clothes he chooses to wear, but he's brilliant at colours. 

Albus gets out of bed and walks across to him. "I've known you're mad for years, and I love you for it." He plucks his favourite sweater from the wardrobe and throws it onto the bed. "Dare I ask how long this list is?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "A few feet of parchment. It's pinned on the board in my office." 

Albus grins. "Brilliant. Well maybe you should bring it down. We could talk about it properly. You could bring it with us."

"I could," Scorpius says. He picks his wand up from the bedside table and starts waving it over his hair, which immediately goes neat and flat. 

Albus runs a hand through his own hopelessly unruly hair and sighs. "It's a good point though. That we'd never be able to do this. Imagine if they were anything like me and James used to be. The kitchen would be on fire by now and there'd be three broken windows. And you know what?" He wraps an arm round Scorpius's waist and draws him in for a deep kiss. "I quite like having you all to myself."

"Can I add that to the cons list?" Scorpius asks, stroking a bit of hair out of Albus's eyes. 

Albus nods very seriously. "I think you'd better." He pulls back and gestures to Scorpius's perfect hair. "Did your dad teach you that spell? Can you teach me?" 

Scorpius grins. "I could. But it wouldn't help. Your hair is hopeless." He kisses Albus on the cheek and disappears into the bathroom, leaving Albus to glare after him. 

It takes them twenty more minutes to finish getting ready, but eventually Scorpius detaches his list from the board and they go downstairs to start pulling on their coats. There's a five minute delay while Scorpius tries to remember where he put his left shoe, before Albus gets bored of waiting and summons it. It comes zooming out from behind one of the sofas and Scorpius catches it with a sheepish grin. 

"I really don't know how it got there," he says. 

"Neither do I," Albus says. "I don't even think I want to know." 

"At least it wasn't at the bottom of the stairs." 

"I'm very proud of you," Albus says, flopping down on the bottom step to wait while Scorpius finishes putting his shoes on. 

It takes another five minutes before Scorpius finally has both shoes on his feet and they've gathered everything they need. Albus is pretty sure it's a minor miracle that it's taken them only this long to get ready. Two people shouldn't be so difficult to organise. But as they're about to step out of the front door, Albus hears a whoosh and a pop from the living room and freezes. 

He glances at Scorpius, frowning. "Did you hear that? Is someone calling us?" 

Scorpius groans. "I know what's calling us, Albus, it's those delicious pastries. And the coffee. Rich, aromatic coffee. Just the way you like it." 

Albus nods. "I know, but..." he sighs and glances back at the living room door. "Do you think I should just check? It's probably nothing, but what if it's something important?" 

Scorpius groans and leans in the doorway. "Breakfast with your husband is important, Albus. Coffee and pastries are important. Talking about this-" He waves his list, "is important. You having time off is also important. If it's anyone from work, tell them from me that this is your day off and they can take their important business and stick it-" 

Albus steps back and looks through the living room door. He immediately recognises the head in the fire. 

"Dad!" 

Scorpius groans and buries his face in his hands. 

Albus waves a hand at him. "Don't be dramatic. I'll be back in a second." He rushes over to the fire and crouches down. "Dad, is everything okay? Why are you calling? James didn't fall off his broom again, did he?" 

Scorpius walks into the room behind him and hovers, hands in his pockets, waiting. 

"No," Harry says. "James is fine. Everyone's fine. Well... not everyone." He pauses for a moment, and that pause tells Albus everything he needs to know about how serious this is. He looks back at Scorpius, and Scorpius steps up and runs his fingers through Albus's hair. 

"There's an emergency at work," Harry says, voice heavy and serious. "The raid last night... No one came back. We've heard nothing."

Albus stares at him in horror. "Nothing at all? But-" 

"I know. We need to plan what we're going to do next. All of us. I need everyone." He looks up at Scorpius and the bright embers of his eyes dim a little. "I'm really sorry. I know how hard it is for you both to-" 

Scorpius shakes his head and folds his arms, hugging himself. "No, it's fine. I understand. This is important." His voice sounds tight, and Albus's shoulders slump. 

"I'll- I'll come," he says, trying not to sound upset. This could be a dire situation. He's not meant to be reluctant when people's lives are at stake. The whole point of being an Auror is that the safety of the Wizarding World comes before everything else. But some days that's harder to remember than others. 

"Just give me five minutes to change," he says. "Then I'll be there." 

"Thanks," Harry says. "I'll make it up to you both. Dinner, an extra day off, something. But this really isn't good. We need all hands on deck." 

"Of course," Scorpius says, squeezing Albus's shoulder. It makes Albus feel a bit stronger, and he nods. 

"Thank you," Harry says. "I'll see you in a minute, Albus. Scorpius... I'm sorry." And then he's gone. 

Albus stares into the fire, then he slowly turns and looks up at Scorpius. "Of course something would happen today." 

"Of course," Scorpius agrees.

Albus gets up and puts his hands on Scorpius's shoulders, before thinking better of it and cupping his face instead. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know," Scorpius says, and he doesn't sound miserable any more, just purposeful. Solid and strong. Brave. 

Albus hugs him tightly. "I promise I'll be back. I was looking forward to today too, and... I'm so sorry." 

"Work comes first," Scorpius says, hugging him back, then turning his head to give Albus a long kiss. When he pulls back he strokes his fingers through Albus's hair and looks him dead in the eye. "You be safe." 

Albus nods and looks back at him. "I'll be as safe as I can." He strokes his fingers down Scorpius's cheek. "I love you. I love you a lot, and I'll miss you, and-" He shakes his head and kisses Scorpius again. "I'll try to be home in time for lunch. Maybe we can talk about the list then." 

Scorpius snorts. "You'll be lucky." 

"Dinner, then." He looks Scorpius in this eyes. "I _will_ see you. Soon. Very soon. As soon as I can manage."

They share one last lingering kiss, and Albus brushes his fingers through Scorpius's hair. Then he very reluctantly pulls away and goes upstairs to pull his work robes on, all promise of a warm, comfortable day off with his husband already a distant memory. 

 

Albus isn't home in time for dinner. In fact the only time Scorpius hears from him all day is when an unusually ruffled-looking Ministry owl shows up at lunchtime with a note. 

_I think it's going to be a late one. I'll try to update later, but it's a bit mad here. I promise I'll be home tonight, or tomorrow. I will see you soon._

_I hope you know that I love you very much,_

_A x_

The note just makes the waiting even worse. Ever since Albus's first days as an Auror he's always, without fail, told Scorpius he loves him very much before going on a raid. Which means that this emergency, whatever it is, has turned into a full blown mission, and Albus is probably going to end up in danger. The prospect never gets less sickening.

Darkness falls outside and Scorpius paces round the kitchen, trying to decide whether he should bother making dinner. When he can no longer stand the pain of his own hunger, he heats up some leftover soup that Albus had made for lunch the other day – Albus is by far the better cook, and Scorpius is constantly grateful for his leftovers – and retreats into his office to read. 

The seconds tick into minutes which slowly ooze away into hours, and there's nothing. Not an owl, or a call, or a Patronus message... Scorpius is half considering going over to the Ministry and demanding to know what's going on. But he resists, because he knows from experience that a raid can last anywhere between half an hour and half a day, or longer if there's reconnaissance needed, or something goes wrong. 

He sits in his chair, puts his reading glasses on, and tries to concentrate on the European Journal of Spell Damage. There's an article about the effects of full-strength Stunning Spells on adolescents, which would normally be a completely fascinating topic, but right now his brain won't focus on it. It's wandering far far away, to where Albus might be duelling to the death with some dark wizard, or being attacked by some creature or other, or he might be trapped, or tortured, or kidnapped, or- 

Scorpius runs his hands through his hair and stares up at the board in front of him. His long list of the pros and cons of children is pinned to it, and right at the top, con number one, the biggest and most important of all, is this. The fact that one day Albus might go out to work and not come home. Because if there's one thing Scorpius knows, it's how awful it is to grow up missing one of your parents, and he doesn't know if he can bring himself to inflict that pain on anyone else.

He buries his face in his hands and takes a deep breath. 

It'll be fine. It's not that late. He would have heard by now if something had happened. Harry would have called back and told him. Or someone from the Ministry. And he's not supposed to worry. He should be used to this by now, after years and years of it. 

He shakes himself and returns to his article. As he reads, skimming the words, none of them penetrating far into his brain, he fiddles with a bit of parchment, rolling it up into a tight scroll, then flattening it out, then rolling it up again, then flattening it out... 

He loses track of time, caught up in the article and the repetitive motion of his fingers on the parchment. Some of his tension evaporates, and he forgets to keep glancing at the clock, or catastrophising. He's so caught up that the knock on the front door makes him jump. 

He glances at the clock and sees it's nearly midnight now. Who would be knocking on the door at midnight? The only person he's expecting is Albus, and he would just let himself in... Unless something terrible really has happened and someone from the Ministry has come to deliver bad news.

Another knock, and Scorpius flies from his seat. He sprints downstairs, almost twisting his ankle on the pair of shoes lying at the bottom. He kicks them aside and hops the rest of the way down the hall, rubbing his ankle and swearing. Still on one foot, he makes an impatient gesture to the door, which unlocks itself and swings open. 

Albus is outside. He's leaning against the porch wall, and it takes Scorpius one look at him to know that something is terribly wrong. He‘s unsteady on his feet. Although he's slumped into the wall he still seems to be swaying, and his eyes are unfocused, like he's been Confunded. He's holding his right arm at an uncomfortable angle, cradled protectively against his chest, and he looks very pale. His robes are torn, and cuts and grazes litter his cheeks. His hair is unruly and grey with dust. 

"Scorpius," he says, voice raspy. He swallows, like trying to talk has hurt him. "I know... I'm not supposed to ask you to heal me anymore, but I-" He swallows again, and blinks several times. His eyes sparkle in the light flooding out through the open door. "I didn't know where to go, o-or-" He closes his eyes, and a couple of tears dribble down his cheeks. 

Scorpius stares at the tears in horror. Albus cries so rarely; he can't remember the last time he saw him do it. Maybe not for years. And he never cries when he's injured. He likes to pretend everything is fine, even when it isn't. So to see him obviously hurt and shaken and crying-

"I-I don't know what happened," Albus says, a sob escaping him, and he bows his head and sags into the wall, all his weight on it. "I wanted you. I-I'm sorry." He dissolves into noisy tears, and Scorpius doesn't know what to do. He stands rooted to the spot, thrown off by the state of Albus, by the tears and the blood and the fear. Albus has always seemed unshakeable. In the worst of situations he always keeps his head, that's why he's an Auror, but now... 

He shakes himself. Whatever he expects of Albus in a situation like this he should have the same expectations of himself. He's a Healer for Merlin's sake. He hasn't trained his whole life to fall apart when his husband needs him. He has to be better than this.

Hands trembling, his pushes himself out of the doorway and walks to Albus. "It's okay," he says gently. He wraps an arm round Albus's waist. "Don't be sorry. I'd rather have you here, where I can look after you." Now he's close up it's like his brain has kicked into gear, and he starts assessing the injuries Albus might have, already running through spells to fix them. His training is taking over, even though his heart feels shot through with fear.

Albus leans against his side. He's shivering, and Scorpius casts a Warming Charm over him without really thinking about it, without even drawing his wand.

"I didn't- didn't want to upset you," Albus sniffs. 

"I know," Scorpius says. "I know. I'm not upset, I promise. Just lean on me, okay? I'm going to take you inside." He waves the door shut behind them once they're in, and helps Albus onto the couch in the living room. There are still tears dribbling down Albus's cheeks, and he curls up as small as he can make himself, a miserable little ball, still protecting his injured arm. 

Scorpius crouches beside him and brushes his fingers through Albus's hair, sending dust swirling into the air. "Can you tell me what happened?" He asks. 

"I-I don't remember," Albus says, and his face screws up as fresh tears overwhelm him. He looks like the scared little boy he used to be when he was bullied in school and didn't know what to do about it. He'd never deliberately let anyone see him like this, full of fear and desperation, lost and lonely.

"That's alright," Scorpius says, trying to set aside his newly emerging fear that Albus's mind might be badly damaged. It's never good when someone doesn't remember anything at all. 

He draws his wand. "Don't worry about that for now. I can help with that in a minute. First, can I see your arm?" 

Albus holds it out, wincing, and Scorpius very gently takes hold of his wrist, fingers light, doing his utmost not to make it hurt anymore than it already does. A sweep of his wand shows him the arm is broken, but not badly. It's the work of a moment to repair it, and Albus relaxes straight away. The tension melts from his shoulders and he looks a lot more comfortable.

"Thank you," he whispers, flexing his fingers, before hugging the arm back to his chest.

"Is there anything else that hurts?" Scorpius asks, already casting diagnostic spells over Albus. 

"My chest," Albus says, looking up at Scorpius. He already looks less like he's lost. There's trust in his eyes, and Scorpius feels a simultaneous sense of gratitude and pressure from it. "And my head. I-I don't think... I don't think anything else is broken." 

Scorpius nods. "I'll have a look. Try to stay still for a bit, alright?" 

The diagnostic spells create a shadowy, almost smoke-like image of Albus that hangs in the air. Scorpius is glad he didn't have time to take his reading glasses off, because he doesn't have to squint when he looks up at it. He casts the first three diagnostic spells at once, and they overlay, so he can read that there's no more damage to Albus's bones, that his soft tissues and organs are unhurt, but that his skin is covered in tiny cuts and bruises. He can heal those in a second, they won't be hard. A casual flick of his wand dismisses the first three spells and summons up the fourth, which is the most worrying yet. 

It shows the delicate web of the nervous system, fanning out through Albus's body from his brain. While all the nerves are fine, there's something off about his brain. Scorpius can't put his finger on it yet, but he guesses it must be something to do with the Confundus that Albus has clearly been hit with. Or it could be something worse...

Scorpius swallows and dismisses the spell. Ignoring the fifth layer of spell work, the one which shows emotional aura, he conjures up the sixth and seventh layers – the ones that show magical effects on the body, both minor and major – at the same time. They twist together, and as they intermingle, the damage they show sends shadows across the room. 

There's a bright glow, like a halo around the area of Albus's head, which confirms the Confundus Charm Scorpius had suspected. The rest of his body is lit up with bits and pieces of minor spell damage, but nothing which won't fade away on its own soon with a bit of rest and time. 

The major spell damage is what makes Scorpius's heart turn to ice. There’s a pair of curses, which radiate out from two points, one in Albus's head, one over his heart. A pair of dark, festering masses, that Scorpius knows will be incredibly difficult to unknot even once they've figured out where to start. They're not a shape or quality he recognises. He knows a lot about curses, and the common ones all have a character he knows intimately. If he's never seen them before that means they're either very very old, or completely new, and he has no idea how to counter them. The only upside is that he can tell they aren't spreading. 

Scorpius waves his hand to dismiss the spells. The shadowy replica of Albus disintegrates, and the room lightens. 

"Those black bits..." Albus says, voice trembling. He's gazing up at the spot where the diagram had been, and he sounds on the verge of tears again. 

Scorpius strokes a bit of hair off his forehead. "They're curses, bad ones, but I promise they aren't getting worse, and you know what?" He gives Albus an encouraging smile. "You've come to the right place to get them sorted out. I'm quite good at my job." He leans down and kisses Albus lightly on the forehead. 

Albus closes his eyes. "I want to go to sleep." 

Scorpius strokes his cheek. "Hold on for a bit longer, okay? There are a couple of things I need to know."

"But I can't rem-" Albus starts.

"I know," Scorpius says soothingly. "I know. But I need to know if anyone knows where you are. Did you go back to work? Does your dad know where you are?"

Albus's eyes flutter closed again, and he shakes his head. "I wanted to see you."

"Alright," Scorpius says. "And were you with anyone? Would they have checked in?"

"They..." Albus swallows. "I think they're dead." He doesn't open his eyes, and he curls in tighter on himself. Scorpius rubs Albus’s arm and struggles to keep his emotions in check. 

"Okay. That's okay." He looks down at Albus's small, battered body, and desperately wants to hug him, but he resists. Albus doesn't need that right now. He needs rest, peace and quiet, and his own space. And there are things Scorpius needs to do. 

"Albus?" He asks, brushing his fingers through his husband's hair. Albus's eyes flicker open then closed. "Is it okay if I put a spell on you? It won't hurt. It’ll put you into a really good sleep for a few hours, no dreams or anything, and hopefully when you wake up some of the spells will have worn off and you'll feel better. You might even be able to remember a little bit more. It'll help you rest. Is that okay with you?" 

Albus's eyes flicker open one final time, and he looks up at Scorpius, the emerald light in them dull and exhausted. "Yes please," he breathes, barely audible, but the words are full of relief. 

Scorpius kisses him on the cheek. "Alright. Sleep well, sweetheart." He waves his wand in a sinuous curve over Albus's body, and a substance like silver rain shimmers and sparkles through the air. As it falls, Albus relaxes completely. His body uncurls a bit and goes limp. His eyes close, and all the lines of fear and worry melt from his face. 

Scorpius watches until Albus is completely still, then he gets to his feet and points his wand into the air, all business. He thinks of Albus on their wedding day – beaming and dancing, full of life and energy and joy – and says, "Expecto Patronum".

A silver swallow soars out and darts around the room, filling it with a sudden warmth. It alights briefly on Albus's chest. Some of the light seems to sink into him, and he stirs for a moment before falling quiet again. The swallow takes flight once more, and Scorpius turns on the spot, following its movement.

"I need you to take this message to Harry Potter: 'Albus thinks his team are dead, but he's with me. He's alive, he’s safe, and I'm looking after him. Please don't worry.' That's all. Thank you." 

The swallow swoops once in a long loop around Scorpius's head, wings brushing his hair, making him feel lighter and more hopeful, then it darts away and vanishes into thin air. 

Once it's gone the room feels very dark and a lot colder. The fire crackling in the grate seems to have less of an effect, and Scorpius shivers. He waves his wand in a large circle, pointing out into every corner. A Warming Charm falls over the whole room, bathing Scorpius in a gentle heat that settles into him, making his fingers and toes tingle, percolating into his veins and bones, all the way to his heart. 

Feeling considerably better, he kneels down beside the couch and starts inspecting some of Albus's cuts and grazes. They aren't contaminated with anything magical, and they aren't serious. It looks like he's been scratched by tree branches or something. Scorpius summons hot water from the kitchen and cleans the exposed ones by hand, then casts a spell to clean and heal all the rest. Finally he tucks Albus under a blanket, and sits cross-legged on the floor looking up at him. 

In the silence and stillness the magnitude of everything that's happened sinks in. People might be dead. Albus is injured. Whatever he was involved in seems to have gone very wrong, and it was already an emergency even before he got involved. This is really bad. Scorpius doesn't even know if Harry is okay. The entire Auror department could be wiped out. 

He feels a small pang of fear at that. Harry has always been so strong and dependable, a hero, able to survive anything. These days Scorpius sees him almost as a second dad, someone he can talk to, look up to, someone who's on his side where Albus is concerned. But he can't think about that. He can't worry about Harry now. 

He pushes the fear aside and tries to focus. Albus is here. Albus, at least, is safe. There's nothing else he should worry about, because nothing else is under his control. Albus's health is in his hands, and it's the only thing he can have an effect on. So now he needs to take this opportunity to get a head start. He knows from bitter experience that usually the quicker a curse is dealt with, the better the long term outcome. 

Flooded with determination, he raises his wand and starts summoning books down from his office. They stack up on either side of him, medical textbooks, indexes and encyclopaedias full of old and new curses, journals and research books, old tomes that are half falling apart and talk about the most ancient and dangerous spells... He plucks one of his favourite books out of the air and flicks his wand, conjuring up the image of Albus's body, with the two curses coiling dark and dangerous in his heart and head. 

They really aren't like anything he's seen before. The one in Albus's head looks almost like a Memory Charm, and that would fit with him not remembering what happened to him. But there's no curse that will modify someone's memory that Scorpius knows of. He frowns and starts riffling through the book he's holding, searching for curses and counter-curses, little bits of history and theory, anything that will help him. 

He's buried so deep in his research that he almost misses the telltale rush of wind and roar of flames that indicates an imminent arrival by Floo. It's only when the flames in the fireplace crackle and spit and flood the room with green light that he looks up. 

Harry comes tumbling out of the fireplace in a flurry of ash and dust. He's wearing his work suit, but it's all torn up, and there's a nasty looking burn mark on one of the sleeves. Half his face is swollen up and red, a Stinging Hex most likely, and there's a long cut across his other cheek. His glasses are askew, his hair a mess, and he looks wild and desperate. 

"Albus is here?" He asks, breathless. "I need to see him. I need to know he's safe."

Scorpius picks himself up off the floor and walks toward Harry. "Harry! What happened? Are you okay? Your face looks-"

"Let me see my son!" Harry roars, voice suddenly tight and on edge, like he's about to fracture into pieces, and Albus is the only thing that can possibly hold him together.

Scorpius steps aside immediately. "He's fine," he says. "He's alive. Most of his injuries are-"

"Why's he so still?" Harry demands, falling to his knees next to Albus and taking his hand to check for a pulse. "He's alive." He looks up at Scorpius, determined and demanding. Full of purpose. "Tell me why he isn't awake." 

Scorpius kneels beside his father-in-law. "I've put him into an enchanted sleep. He'll rest for around twelve hours." He looks at Harry. "He was Confunded, and he's been cursed. One in his chest and one in his head. He didn't remember anything. Sleeping will help him heal." He gestures to Harry's face. "Can I please have a look at-" 

Harry brushes him away. "It's fine. It's nothing. You said Albus has been cursed? What was it? The Cruciatus, or-or something worse?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I don't know. It's not something I recognise. It looks like an Obliviate or something, but I don't know. That's not a curse, and whatever is wrong with Albus is _definitely_ a curse. I was just looking it up when you arrived." He raises his wand. "Harry, can I please check you aren't hurt? Albus would never forgive me if I-" 

Harry brushes away a trickle of blood from his cut. "It's just a scratch. It isn't important. It-" He looks back at Albus and reaches out to stroke his hair, fingers trembling. "I-I've been waiting for more than an an hour..." He says, voice choking up as a dozen different emotions seem to overwhelm him. "Just sitting there. I didn't know if- if he was alive. Where he was. I was just waiting." He shakes his head and swallows, looking down at his hands. 

"I'm going to make you some tea," Scorpius says after a moment. "It's been a difficult evening." He gets up and walks round the breakfast bar, into the kitchen. 

Harry doesn't follow. While Scorpius sets the water boiling and searches for the chamomile tea, Harry stays kneeling by Albus's side. "We all got split up," he says. "I got pinned down, people were duelling us, and we had to run. But Albus got past. He's small, people don't notice him, and I'm-" He gestures helplessly. "I suppose I'm a good target." 

He hovers his hand over Albus's head, like he wants to stroke his hair but doesn't dare touch him. "But then we didn't hear anything. We got back to the Ministry, and we were all going to meet up there, but Albus's team didn't come. I started to think that- That he might-"

Scorpius nods. "I know." 

"But he's fine," Harry says, drawing in a deep breath and taking Albus's hand. "He's safe."

"He's good at looking after himself," Scorpius says, pouring the boiling water into mugs and levitating them out to where Harry is sitting.

Harry nods and takes one of the mugs. Scorpius sits beside him and they lapse into silence for a bit, broken only by the crackle and pop of the logs in the fire, and Albus's quiet, steady breathing. 

"Does Ginny know the two of you are safe?" Scorpius asks after a little while. 

"I messaged her before I came here," Harry says, taking a sip of his tea. "I hope she's gone to bed." 

Scorpius turns his mug round in his hands, letting it warm his fingers. He's almost certain Ginny will be awake, waiting for Harry to get back. It's what he would be doing if this were the other way round. 

"So these- these curses," Harry says, gesturing between Albus's chest and head. "They might be new? They might be something we haven't seen before?"

"Well," Scorpius says, taking a breath. "They could be something very old, but since this isn't a legacy case, you know, where the curse has been inherited, I'd say from experience that this _is_ something new. Most likely, whoever you were fighting has developed it themselves. That means there likely isn't a counter-curse, so we'll have to create our own. It looks like a complicated one."

Harry nods. "We'll need to get a team working on that," he says, half to himself. 

Scorpius glances at him. "I want to do it." 

Harry frowns. "I don't know if I can do that, Scorpius. I can't just interfere at the hospital. I'll have to ask one of the team leaders, or-" 

"I'm a team leader," Scorpius says, "and I'm volunteering. You don't even have to ask."

"You're- you're a team leader now?" Harry blinks at him, apparently stunned by the news. "Albus didn't mention-" 

"I was promoted last month," Scorpius says, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "I asked him not to tell anyone because I didn't want to brag." He looks Harry dead in the eye, full of determined certainty. He will take this case no matter how much convincing he has to do. "I'm one of the youngest ever, but no less competent than anyone else. My spell theory is excellent, and I'm very good at testing curses and working out what they do. I'm-"

"You don't need to tell me how good you are," Harry says, smiling. "I hear it from Albus often enough."

Scorpius nods and tucks a bit of hair behind his ear, cheeks heating up a bit. "Of course. I just thought... Well, he's your son. You should know he's going to be in safe hands." 

"He's your husband," Harry points out. "I'm sure you're keen to take good care of him. Anyway," he digs his hands into his pockets. "This isn't just about Albus. He's important, but it's the whole department. It's everyone." He looks up at Scorpius. "We've lost five people in the last two days. I don't know how those curses are connected – if they are connected at all – but we need to know how to fix them, in case anyone else gets hurt. And maybe Albus remembering things about what happened... It might help."

He runs a hand through his hair and looks at Scorpius. "If you're going to work with us I might as well fill you in now." He takes a breath. "There's a house, and it should just have a couple of former-Death Eaters in. It shouldn't have been too difficult to deal with. But Albus is the only one who's been in there and survived, and we need to know why. He knows what we’re facing, so we need him healed. It's of the utmost importance, but I have complete faith in you." 

"I understand," Scorpius says, drawing himself up straight. "I won't let you down." 

Harry nods. He runs a hand over Albus's shoulder, then sighs and gets to his feet. "Well, it's getting late, and you probably want to take care of Albus. I need to go home and update Ginny anyway..." He glances down at Albus. "Will you take him to St Mungo's tomorrow?" 

"In the afternoon, once he's woken up." Scorpius stands up as well. "He shouldn't need to stay long, we just need to do a few tests." 

"I'll meet you at the hospital in the afternoon then," Harry says, already halfway to the fireplace.

"Wait," Scorpius calls, rushing after him. "I'm not letting you go home looking like that. Ginny doesn't need to see you this way." He gestures to Harry's still swollen and bleeding face. "Let me heal it, please?" 

Harry considers for a moment. "Fine. It would be nice for it to stop hurting I suppose..."

Scorpius waves his wand over Harry. The cut seals up, the swelling dies down, and Harry gives his cheek an experimental prod. 

"Better," he says. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Scorpius says. 

Harry takes some Floo Powder from the pot on the mantelpiece and tosses it into the fire. "See you tomorrow then. Take good care of him. And don't stay up all night with those books. I'd suggest you get some rest now. While you can." He gives Scorpius a grim smile, then steps into the fireplace and disappears from sight, leaving Scorpius and Albus entirely alone. 


	2. Trying to remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius's job is boring, Harry is panicking about his son, and Albus still doesn't remember a thing about the raid. With the help of a little Veritaserum, they try to extract a few of his precious memories...

"You never told me your job was this boring," Albus says, watching Scorpius tap his wand in an intricate rhythm along his previously broken right arm. "That tickles you know." 

"I know," Scorpius says, without looking up. "I'm told every day by my patients. And I'm sorry I'm not entertaining enough for you. I was actually trying to concentrate." 

Albus grins and shuffles into a more comfortable position on the hospital bed. His foot is starting to go numb where he's had his legs crossed. 

"Would you please sit still?" Scorpius mutters. 

"Am I ruining your readings?" Albus asks, smirking. The long sleep has left him feeling very well rested and in an excellent mood, as long as he ignores how much his head and chest are aching. 

"You always ruin my readings," Scorpius says, and Albus's smile widens.

"Are you allowed to flirt at-" 

"Does your head hurt?" Scorpius asks, letting go of Albus's wrist and moving across to study his face instead. He peers into Albus's eyes, shining his wandlight in so he can see better. 

"No," Albus lies, without thinking.

Scorpius sighs and pulls away. He looks at Albus properly for the first time since he started the examination ten minutes ago. "Pretend I'm just a Healer, not your husband as well, and tell me honestly. Does your head hurt?"

Albus meets his eyes, then looks away. He shrugs. "Of course." 

"How much?" Scorpius asks, voice softening considerably, as he leans in again and directs his wand at Albus's forehead. 

"Quite a lot," Albus admits. "Like a bad headache that won't stop." 

"Alright," Scorpius says. He puts a hand on Albus's chest and directs his wand at his heart instead. "And what about your chest?"

"Is this just an excuse for you to feel me up at work?" Albus asks, mostly just to avoid the question.

"Albus!" Scorpius snaps.

"Sorry..." Albus says. He looks down at Scorpius's hand and nods. "Yes. More than..." He swallows. "More than my head." It's a throbbing sort of pain, and it makes him feel more than a little scared, because it's the kind of pain that means something is seriously wrong. 

"Alright," Scorpius murmurs. He closes his eyes, and Albus studies him. He's completely unreadable at the moment, no signs of an emotional reaction to what he's finding at all. He's unwaveringly professional, and it's reassuring. Albus wasn't sure it would be, but a focused, intense, business like Scorpius means he's in safe hands. And if no emotions are slipping through then it can't be that bad, can it?

"I think I can stop the pain," Scorpius says finally, opening his eyes. "That will at least make you comfortable." He takes a step away from Albus and sighs. "It's frustrating not knowing how these curses affect you. If we can work out what they do we'll know how to counter them."

"And how do we work out what they do?" Albus asks, curious.

"With considerable amounts of research and hard work. But," Scorpius says with a smile, "why are you interested? I thought you said my job was boring?"

Albus grins and rubs his chest. "It is. I was just indulging you." 

"No, you were interested." Scorpius points his wand at Albus. "I know you, Albus Severus. I can read you like a book. Now be quiet and sit still for two minutes." He starts waving his wand in sinuous curves, face set with concentration. 

"You say that like I'm the one who can't sit still," Albus murmurs, and Scorpius glares at him. 

"This is complicated," Scorpius mutters, frowning. "You try it while someone's talking at you." 

"Oh I have no desire to," Albus says cheerfully, swaying from side to side just to be irritating. "It's far too much fun distracting you." 

"You're such an evil-" Scorpius swears and lowers his wand, and Albus knows the spell has failed.

"Language," Albus chirps.

"You ruined my spell!" He puts his hands on his hips and gives Albus a severe look. "Do you want the pain to stop or not?" 

Albus's smile fades, and he nods. "Yes. Go on. I'll behave." 

For the next couple of minutes they sit in silence, Albus watching the movements of Scorpius's wand. He can feel the magic spilling over him, like waves lapping on a shore, warm and relaxing. So familiar. These days Scorpius's magic feels like coming home, like a hug. And especially now, when Albus is in so much pain, it's pure relief to have it washing through his body and soothing him.

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward onto his chest. As the magic sweeps through him, the pain begins to fade away. His shoulders relax, and he feels a sort of contented numbness spread into his head and chest. It feels like he can breathe a little more easily, and his head feels clearer. 

He inhales and opens his eyes. "Better." 

Scorpius takes a moment to finish his spell, then he lowers his wand and looks at Albus. "It's worked?" 

Albus nods. "It's brilliant. Thank you." 

"Good. I just want to have a look at-" he breaks off as there's a knock at the door. "Come in," he calls. 

Harry doesn't wait for Scorpius to finish inviting him in. He walks into the room, takes one look at Albus, and rushes across to him. 

"Albus! You're awake. How are you feeling?" He takes Albus's face in his hands and starts inspecting him, like he's trying to see the damage inside his head. 

Albus gently pushes him away. "I'm okay, Dad. You can stop panicking now." 

"I wasn't panicking," Harry says. 

Albus grins. "Of course you weren't." He pats his dad on the arm. "Really, Dad. I slept and now I feel a lot better." 

Harry pulls back and scrutinises him. "Are you sure? You look a bit pale. Does anything hurt at all? Do you need-"

"Excuse me," Scorpius says, cutting into their reunion. "I'm the Healer here." He looks at Harry. "I just have a couple of things to finish, and then you can have him all to yourself."

"Has he had any Painkilling Potion?" Harry asks. 

"I used a spell," Scorpius says, gesturing for him to move aside. "It works better on these sorts of things."

"Are you-"

Scorpius draws himself up to his full height and tries to embody his father's authoritative air. "Mr Potter, Albus may be your son but he is also my patient, and in this room that is more important. Now could you please step back and let me finish examining him? If you can't I'll have to ask you to leave." 

Harry blinks at him, then steps back, making an apologetic little gesture with his hands. 

"Thank you," Scorpius says. He turns back to Albus and sees that he's smirking, so he flourishes his wand at him. "Behave." 

Albus grins. "I'm not doing anything." He lowers his voice to a whisper that Scorpius knows is meant for only him to hear. "I like it when you stand up to my dad."

"I told you to behave," Scorpius says, giving him a little jab in the chest. 

"Sorry," Albus says. He looks over Scorpius's shoulder at Harry. "Is everything a disaster at work? Your hair looks stressed enough for it to be a disaster." 

Harry sighs. "I hope you're feeling up to a meeting. Everyone's coming here later. We have a lot to talk about."

"Here?" Scorpius asks, without looking away from Albus. 

"We need you and Albus involved," Harry says. "Or it'll be pointless. So, are you up for it?" 

Albus smiles. "You know how much I love meetings, Dad. I'm sure it'll make me feel a _lot_ better."

 

"We have to get the bodies out of the house," Annabel, one of the senior Aurors, argues. "They'll be able to tell us far more than we already know." 

"I'm not sure sending anyone else in there now is a good idea," Harry says, pacing up and down by the foot of Albus's bed. "I won't risk anyone else. I'd go in myself if it didn't seem like a suicide mission." 

"Why can't you just stand near the house and levitate the bodies out of the window?" Albus asks, voice sharp and impatient. They've been arguing about this for at least half an hour and he's bored and tired and just wants them to make some decisions so he can go home. His head hurts, and their raised voices aren't helping. "You don't have to go in the house and we get what we need." 

"We already have what we need," another of the Aurors, Rhys, says, gesturing to Albus. "You've been in the house. You know what's in there, what we're fighting. Can't you just tell us?" 

Albus glares at Rhys. "I _would_ , if I could remember anything!" He buries his face in his hands and rubs his forehead, trying to be subtle about it. Scorpius is watching him, and Albus can tell that he's being assessed.

"How do you know you can't remember anything?" One of Scorpius's Healers asks. "Have you tried pushing it? It might be useful to at least find out how stubborn the curse is." He glances at Scorpius for approval, and Scorpius looks away from Albus, frowning.

"I don't know if I'd advise 'pushing it'. This is his brain we're talking about. There's a chance we could do serious damage; at the very least it would cause him a lot of pain." He shakes his head. "We know this curse is stubborn and difficult. We don't need to hurt Albus to find that out." 

"But if we could establish the boundaries of the spell," the Healer argues. "It would help to know what he remembers and what he doesn't, what the limits are. It might help the Aurors too. The probability of causing permanent damage is insignificant."

"Especially in a case like this where the curse is stable," Scorpius murmurs. He looks at Albus. "What do you think? We won't do anything you don't agree to. This wouldn't be a pleasant experience for you." 

"If it'll stop everyone arguing, I don't care how much it hurts," Albus says. 

Harry turns to face Scorpius, digging a hand into one of his pockets and gesturing to Albus with the other. "When you say the chance of damage is insignificant..." 

"It's extremely rare," Scorpius says. "Although that doesn't mean it's impossible." 

Harry nods. He looks at Albus, and Albus can see the cogs whirring away in his head. No doubt he’s weighing up how useful any information might be against the damage that could be caused. Albus knows the fact that he's Harry's son will be tipping the scales significantly. It always does a little bit, no matter how much his dad tries not to let it affect his judgement. 

He looks his dad right in the eye. "I want to do this. If I can manage to tell you anything at all... People are dead in there. We need to get them out. If I can help..." 

Harry lowers his voice. "You don't have to. It's not something I would ask anyone to do." 

Albus gives him a reassuring, confident flash of a smile, trying not to show any sign of fear. "You don't have to ask. I want to do it." He looks at Scorpius. "How do we do this? Is there a spell? Should we use Veritaserum? Or does he just try asking me questions about what happened?" 

 Scorpius tucks a bit of hair out of his eyes and addresses his answer to Harry. "Questions. Specific questions. About the things he doesn't seem to be able to remember. The more pressure you can put on those things, the better the results tend to be. Although it does increase the risk of damage. And Veritaserum wouldn't hurt, if we can find some." 

"I have some," Harry says, pulling a tiny bottle from the inside pocket of his jacket. 

Everyone in the room turns to look at him in amazement, apart from Albus who isn't surprised at all. 

"I took it with me yesterday," Harry explains. "In case we caught anyone. It's important to be ready for these sorts of things." 

"Constant vigilance," Albus says, shooting his dad a grin. 

"Exactly," Harry agrees, holding the bottle out to him. 

Albus takes it, uncorks it, raises it in Scorpius's direction, then gives a little shrug and downs it in one. 

He's taken Veritaserum once before, as part of his Auror training, years ago now. They had to practice resisting it, and Albus had been decent at it. He'd hated the feeling of numbness in his mind so much, a floating feeling, and the compulsion to answer. It was easier to fight against it than let it take over his mind, and it's the same now. There's nothing Albus wants more than to wrestle control away from the potion, but he takes several long breaths and lets himself surrender. 

"Is it working?" Scorpius asks. 

"Yes," Albus replies, because it's the truth. 

"Okay." Scorpius walks up in front of him and scrutinises him carefully, frowning. "Okay," he says again. "You'll have to tell us when you don't think you can handle it any more. We‘ll be relying on your judgement." 

Albus nods and looks at his dad. "Do it. I'll tell you if I need you to stop." 

For a moment Harry considers, then he plants his hands on the end of Albus's bed and fixes him with a very direct look, his interrogation stare, the one Albus has become so familiar with over his years of training. Harry's green eyes seem to pierce right into Albus's soul, and Albus looks deep into them, trying to get swept up in the questioning. 

"What do you remember about yesterday evening?" Harry asks. 

Albus thinks as hard as he can, trying to dredge up every tiny detail. "There was an emergency job. At a house. This old house. I remember there was a duel, and I-I think I went into the house with- with two other people, and we-" There's nothing. Just a blank space where memories should be. He shakes his head. "I don't know. I just remember coming home to Scorpius. I needed to get away from there and find help." 

"Why did you need help?" Harry asks. "What did you find in there?" 

Albus wants to close his eyes to try and think, but he keeps looking right at his dad because he knows this works better with eye contact. "I found-" He tries to just let it come out, let the words fall out of his mouth, but there's nothing there to say. The answers don't seem to be anywhere inside him. "I found-" Attempt two is no better. He makes a strangled little sound and shakes his head. 

"Why did you need help?" Harry asks again, slower and clearer this time. 

That one's easy. "I was injured," Albus says. "From the duel. I had to get away." 

"Was it just the duel you were getting away from?" 

Albus shakes his head. It's starting to ache. A dull gnawing feeling in his temples. And he can't remember a thing. "I don’t know." 

"You _do_ know," Harry presses, leaning forward. "You were in that house. You saw things. What did you see, Albus?" 

His tone has a fierce quality to it, and it's already making Albus feel panicky. He knows how important it is to answer the questions, the Veritaserum is pressing on him to provide the answers, but he just can't find them. His chest feels tight and is aching, and it’s difficult to get a breath in. The pain in his head is building, throbbing behind his eyes, enough to make him feel sick. He can taste acid in the back of his throat already, and he swallows twice before he trusts himself to speak again.

"I-I can remember the garden," he says in a shaky voice. "It was-" He takes a deep breath as his stomach churns and his head pounds. "It was wild. Overgrown. Surrounded by hedges. And this big deserted house was right in the middle. I-I remember-" He breaks off as a wave of dizziness overcomes him, and as the world tilts on its axes he plants a hand on the mattress to keep himself upright. 

"We can stop," Scorpius’s soft, concerned voice says nearby. "Albus, you don't have to do this." 

Albus clenches his jaw and shakes his head. He can’t stop now, he _won’t_ stop. This is important. He swallows once more against the taste of sick and goes ploughing on, the Veritaserum compelling him. "I remember someone was shooting spells out of one of the windows. Stunning Spells, I think. And some Killing Curses; there was green light... People were fighting them outside." He gestures to Harry. "You were fighting. Trying to make it safe to get past, but it wasn't easy. There must have been more than one person defending the house from inside; I'm not sure. But I do know I got past." 

He takes a long deep breath, steadying himself, trying to hold the pain at bay. He‘s supposed to have an excellent tolerance for pain, it’s one of the things he prides himself on. This isn’t that bad, he’s felt worse, he just has to dig deep and keep going long enough for the Veritaserum to do its job.

He buries his face in his hands and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to massage some the pain out of his head so he can think. “I went inside the house, and- and there were people. Three people. In black. And there was-" 

A wave of agony sweeps through him and he collapses sideways. Nausea finally overwhelms him as pain bursts through his head, sending stars exploding in front of his eyes. He retches, body heaving, and a foul mix of Painkilling Potion and stomach acid splatters onto the floor. There’s nothing else inside him to come up because it’s been so long since he last ate. 

His mouth tastes of sharp bile and his throat stings, but his main concern is whether the Veritaserum has worked its way into his system enough to still keep working. He hopes it has. He still feels compelled to talk at least, even though every inch of him feels clammy and his clothes are sticking to him, and his arms shake as he struggles upright. Someone tries to hold him down, but he brushes them away.

“No, I have to-“ He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and forces himself onto his knees, looking right at his dad. Harry’s face is pale, and Albus can see the reluctance in his eyes, the concerned furrow of his brow, but Albus ignores all those things. “I-I remember... remember duelling someone in the house...”

“Albus,” his dad murmurs while he pauses for breath. “I don’t know if you should keep trying to-“

“No!” Albus begs, desperate. Of all the people to back out on him he didn’t expect it would be Harry. His dad has to understand how important this is. “Ask me.” The memories are right there, he can feel them, but he can’t do this on his own. He needs his dad’s help.

“But-“

“ _Please_.” It comes out as a pathetic whimper. He sounds like he used to when he was a kid wanting another bedtime story, and this is so much more critical than that, but it’s the best he can do when his whole body is screaming at him and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on.

Harry smooths a hand through his sticking up hair, swallows, and nods. “Did you- did you recognise them?”

Albus nods and massages his forehead, trying to hold his head together even though it feels like it’s fracturing and splitting apart. "I did... But I-I can't remember their name... or their face. Just darkness."

Harry’s shoulders rise as he draws in a breath and steels himself, then he exhales, squares himself up, and his expression goes iron hard. He walks round the side of the bed, avoiding the puddle of sick on the floor, and pulls a chair up next to Albus, spinning it round so he can fold his arms across the back and glare right into Albus’s eyes. 

“You know more,” Harry says. He lowers his voice and speaks quietly enough for only Albus to hear. “Come on. I know you’re nearly there. You can do this. Who was it?”

Albus tries to conjure up the image of that face. He knows it was a Death Eater but not which one. There's a blank space where their identity should be. He shakes his head, breath coming in short gasps so he can barely speak. When he tries to get anymore air in his ribs feel like they’re going to fracture apart. "Don't... know..." 

"Was there anything or anyone else in the house besides these three people?" Harry asks, tapping his fingers sharply on the back of the chair. Just that sound is enough to make Albus convulse as it drums through every nerve in his body.

He nods frantically, because this is it. This is the important truth that was locked inside him waiting to break free. “Yes,” he gasps. He can see a shadowy, crumbling room, and people, and there’s a blank space where memory should be. 

“What was it?” Harry murmurs, shaking his arm. “Come on.”

Albus opens his mouth and tries to let the words fall out, the articulation of whatever it is that’s just beyond his reach, and the moment he does a lightning bolt of pain strikes his body, and the whole world splits apart, jagged, white hot shards stabbing into every inch of him. He collapses onto the bed, convulsing. 

The pain is all-consuming, beyond anything he’s ever felt. It splits his head in two and he loses his grip on the world. In the distance someone lets out a desperate scream of pain. Blurred voices are talking over each other, chaotic and confusing.

He doesn't know what's happening. He feels like he's being torn apart from the inside out. His brain is on fire. Surely he's going to die. This is like nothing he's ever felt before. Even the Cruciatus Curse doesn't hurt like this. Never ending, searing, burning, on and on without relief. 

The world goes white and indistinct. He can't feel or think. It hurts so much that it makes him feel numb. 

And then, slowly, the fire recedes and he becomes aware of something cool against his forehead. His lungs free up and he can breathe again. There’s a soft voice whispering in his ear. 

"It's okay, Albus. You're going to be okay. They're gone. Just relax." 

Familiar magic trickles over him, carrying him away as if he’s floating down a river on a warm summer afternoon. Honey-golden sunlight dances into the dark corners of his mind. He exhales, and the pain is washed out of him, leaving him feeling bone-tired and stiff. The effort to resist his exhaustion is too much, so he gives in. He drifts asleep.

 

Albus blinks awake. He stares upwards, and the white ceiling slowly drifts into focus. The last time he was conscious he'd been sitting on the covers of a hospital bed. He's still in the same bed now, but someone has lain him down and tucked the blankets over him. 

He rubs his eyes and looks around. There are a few monitoring spells running, making golden traces in the air to show his heart rate, his breathing, and how much pain he's in. At the moment he isn't hurting much at all. His head twinges like the beginnings of a headache, and his chest aches a bit when he breathes in too deeply, but according to the tracing that's nothing, because the line is almost level.

He turns his head to the other side and discovers he's not alone in the room. His mum is sitting in the corner, and apparently she hasn't realised he's awake because she's still reading the paper. 

"Mum?" He asks, voice croaking. 

She looks up and smiles, folding the paper away. "You're awake, then. How do you feel?" 

He inches himself upright and rubs his chest. His whole body is stiff and sore, and his head swims when he moves too fast. "Not... great," He groans. "But not terrible either." He takes a breath and makes a shaky attempt to return her smile. He feels too tired to be smiling. It even feels like too much effort to pull his pillows from beneath him and plump them up behind his back. "Mostly exhausted," he says, as he leans back against them. 

"I'm not surprised," she says. She gets up and walks across to him, sitting in the chair right beside his bed. She reaches out and rubs his arm. "Scorpius wasn't sure how long you'd be asleep for. He thought you could be out all day." 

Albus runs a hand through his hair and shuffles into a more comfortable position with his back to the pillows. "How long _have_ I been asleep for?" 

"Just a couple of hours," Ginny says. "Your father's gone to get something to eat. It took some persuading to get him to leave you, but I agreed to hold the fort until he gets back. It shouldn't be long now." 

Albus nods and rubs his forehead, trying to relieve the faint pulsing pain there. "What about Scorpius?" 

"He's gone to the library," Ginny says, a small smile crossing her lips. 

Albus can't help but grin at that, and he shakes his head, relaxing into the pillows. "Of course he has." He fiddles with his blankets and looks across at his mum. "Do you... Do you know what happened? After I passed out?" 

She shakes her head. "I don't know much. You scared your father. I think they called the meeting off and made everyone leave. He fussed around you a lot. I think he was worried you'd pushed yourself too far. I think everyone was worried about that." She shoots Albus a look. 

He sighs and ruffles his hair. "I thought I was really close to a breakthrough. I wasn't going to stop." 

"As stubborn as your father." She pats his hand and gives a little smile, and he knows she's not cross with him; that she'd have expected nothing else. "Anyway, you know him. As soon as he realised you'd be okay he started strategising again. He can't leave anything alone for more than a second. He and Scorpius seem to make quite a formidable team." 

Albus nods and glances at the door. "When you said it shouldn't be long until Dad gets back..." There are a thousand things he wants to know: what they've been talking about while he was asleep, what the next move is, how he can help, what Scorpius has gone to research... 

"You just relax," Ginny says, giving him a stern look. "Don't stress yourself out. You need rest. He'll be back when he's back." 

Albus leans forward. "But... Fine." He sighs and picks at the blankets, smoothing out a few creases. "Is there anything interesting in the paper?" 

His mum picks it up and hands it across to him. "They're talking about you." 

"What a surprise," Albus mutters. He unfurls the paper and scans the front page. It talks about the raid, mostly focusing on the deaths. There's a short review of previous Auror raids that led to multiple deaths, and Albus's heart sinks as he realises that this is easily the worst death toll since the wars. As soon as he reaches a section criticising his dad's leadership he turns the page. 

The articles overleaf are a lot safer. There's a short opinion piece about the latest House Elf Legislation, a few hundred words about a big historical discovery some Curse Breakers have made in China, and an article about a campaign being run by two parents whose daughter had gone missing five years ago, appealing for new information. Albus gives the stories very little concentration. His head and chest have started aching again by the time he's halfway through the article about the missing girl, and he's beginning to wonder if maybe reading isn't good for him right now, when Harry and Scorpius walk in. 

"I think we're going to have to do it," Harry says in a hushed murmur, holding the door for Scorpius, who has a stack of books in his arms and even more levitating along beside him. "I don't see another choice, as much as I'm reluctant." 

"It might help with the research," Scorpius whispers back. "Although obviously I can't say for sure. Any information we can get at the moment is valuable"

"What are you talking about?" Albus asks, dropping the newspaper onto the bed and looking up at the two of them.

They both jump and turn to face him, looking more than a little sheepish. Apparently they hadn't realised he was awake, and Albus guesses they would have finished the conversation outside if they'd known.  

Scorpius sets the books in his arms on top of the pile in mid-air, and banishes them away to a table across the room with a wave of his hand. "I didn't think you'd be awake yet," he says, drawing his wand. "How do you feel?" He strides across to Albus and starts peering into his eyes, casting silent spells with little twitches of his wand. "You don't seem to have any lasting effects from earlier that I can see..." 

Albus gives a one shouldered shrug. "I think I'm okay. It definitely doesn't hurt as much now. But don't avoid my question." He looks past Scorpius to Harry. "What's happening, Dad? Mum said you and Scorpius have been strategising." 

Harry shoots Ginny a betrayed look, and she spreads her hands in an 'I'm staying out of this' gesture before giving Albus a final pat on the arm and retreating to her chair across the room. 

"I don't know if I'd call it strategising," Harry says, sitting down in the newly vacant chair beside Albus's bed. "We were discussing the situation, and how to improve it."

"So yes," Albus says, "you _were_ strategising." He folds his arms and looks at Scorpius instead. "If you're going to talk about my brain behind my back you at least have to fill me in afterwards." 

"Your brain wasn't actually discussed that much," Scorpius says, turning away to examine the golden tracings that are still being drawn out in the air next to the bed

"What _did_ you discuss then?" Albus asks, switching his gaze back to Harry.

His dad hesitates for a moment, then he takes a breath and leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. "We... Want to retrieve the bodies from the house." He pushes his glasses up his nose. "It'll be dangerous, but if we can do it without going inside the house we might have a chance. And we might get some very useful information." 

"I'm hoping a post mortem might give us a better idea about your curses," Scorpius says, glancing at Albus. "I’d like to find out if any of the people who died suffered the same thing as you. Even if they didn’t then we should at least be able to find out what happened to them. If it was a simple Killing Curse or something new." 

"I want to come," Albus says immediately. He knows he's not really well enough; he still feels exhausted, although hopefully a bit of a rest will sort that out. Being anywhere near house will probably have terrible effects on him. His dad and Scorpius are going to fight this every second of the way, but he'll fight back, because he knows he can be useful here. And maybe, just maybe, if he goes near the house he might remember something. 

"No," Scorpius and Harry say at exactly the same time. 

Albus tightens his jaw and glares at them, folding his arms. "What if I can help? I'm the only person who's been in the house. I might remember where the bodies are. Maybe seeing the house will-"

"No," Harry says, tone sharp, full of all the authority of a head Auror. "We already have five people dead, Albus. I won't have another one." 

Albus rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to die, Dad. And you can't pretend it won't be useful." 

"No," Harry concedes, rubbing his forehead. "I can't. But in this case the risks far outweigh your usefulness." 

"Do they?" Albus asks, direct and determined – his dad likes it when people fight back and make a case for themselves, and he has an excellent case here. "Are you sure about that? In an operation that will be about speed and accuracy, and rely on a working knowledge of the area?" 

Over in the corner Ginny gets to her feet and smooths her skirt out. "I think I'm going to go and get some tea," she says lightly. "Would any of you like a drink?" 

"Could I please have a tea too?" Scorpius asks, seeming glad for a break in the tension. "Milk. Plenty of sugar." 

Ginny smiles. “Of course. Harry? Albus?" 

Albus shakes his head and continues to glare at his dad, who glares right back at him and doesn’t react at all to the question. 

Ginny sighs. "Fine." She crosses the room and pauses in the doorway, glancing back at them. "Please don't fight too much." With that she leaves the room, the door banging shut behind her. 

The silence stretches out behind the closed door. Albus and Harry stare each other out, and Scorpius calmly carries on taking readings. In the end, Harry speaks first. 

"I know you're going to argue with me, Albus. But just hear me out, okay? We've seen how much these curses can hurt you. Going near that house might make it worse. We're lucky you're so well after earlier, and doing this might put you at more risk. It might cause permanent damage. It might kill you. Am I right, Scorpius?" 

Scorpius glances round and takes a breath, but Albus gets there first. 

"If this is just because I'm your-" 

Harry holds a hand up to stop him. "This is _not_ just because you're my son. This is because you're one of the best we have and losing you isn't an option I'm willing to consider. No one who's injured is going on this job, Albus. I don’t care if it’s spell damage, a broken arm, or the flu, it’s too dangerous. You’re not the only one who’s not coming.”

He picks the paper up off of Albus's bed and waves it at him, so the front page is clearly visible. "People are already talking. Already criticising our actions so far. If we lose anyone else..." He draws in a breath. "I _can't_ lose anyone else. Especially not you. And Scorpius agrees." 

“Do you?” Albus asks, turning to look at Scorpius’s back. If Scorpius thinks he shouldn’t go then the fight is pretty much lost. You can’t argue with advice from a Healer. 

Scorpius tucks his wand away and turns to face Albus. "Speaking as your Healer, I'd say it would be highly inadvisable for you to go. Aside from the curses, I'm not sure you're fit for too much intense physical activity. You should be resting and recovering." 

Albus eyes Scorpius, sensing the opening he's left. He knows Scorpius too well to think that it’s a mistake, Scorpius is always so precise with his words. "And... speaking as my husband?" He asks, hardly daring to voice the question. 

Scorpius lifts his head and looks at him. "I wish you wouldn't go,” he says softly, eyes shining a soft, dull grey. “But I already know you're going to find a way, because that's what you do. I know you, Albus Severus Potter. Nothing will keep you from that house, so..." He swallows and looks down at his hands. "I'm hoping that nothing terrible will happen. I'm quite attached to you, and I really was looking forward to discussing my list. We still haven't managed to have our bakery date." 

Albus bows his head, avoiding Scorpius's eyes. Scorpius is right, of course he's right, and Albus feels guilty for making him worry, but at the same time this is his job. It's his passion. He wants to help in any way he can. He has to go with the others. 

"Can I go if I promise to stay away from the house?" He murmurs. "And if I leave as soon as my head starts hurting? Please?” He glances up to see Scorpius and Harry looking at each other, holding the sort of silent conversation they've become increasingly good at in the last few years. 

"I might be useful," he says. "I might recognise something, or...” he gives a desperate little gesture of his hand as he struggles to find more persuasive reasons. “I might remember something. I might be able to help work out where the bodies are." 

Scorpius give a little shrug, a movement so tiny that Albus barely sees, and Harry sighs and runs his hands through his hair before turning back to Albus. 

"Do you promise to leave the second you feel any pain?" 

Albus sits up straight and nods, heart racing with excitement and hope all of a sudden. "Yes,” he says as fast as he can, spitting it out before his dad has time to change his mind. If he accepts the invitation before that happens then he _has_ to be allowed to go. “I promise." 

"And," Harry says, pointing at him. "Do you promise not to go anywhere near the house?" 

"Of course! I promise!" 

Harry glances at Scorpius once more, then he shifts back and spreads his hands. "Fine. Fine! Your mother is going to kill us." 

Albus flops back in bed, grinning. "That's alright. I'll tell her it's my fault." 

"She won't believe you." Harry checks his watch and groans. "Alright you two, I need to go and fill Hermione in on what's happening. And do some damage control with the Prophet." He shakes his head and gets reluctantly to his feet. "We're going to the house tomorrow morning, Albus. Be at the Ministry for 10. Don't bother with robes. And please, for Merlin’s sake, get some rest. You look like you need it." 

"I will sleep like a baby all day," Albus says, still grinning. "Thanks, Dad." 

"Don't thank me yet," Harry says, striding across to the doorway. "This will probably be a disaster." With that he leaves the room, door banging shut behind him. 

Once he's gone, Scorpius walks up to Albus and ruffles his hair, stroking a gentle hand down his cheek to cup his chin. Albus looks up at him. 

"Please try to come back in one piece this time," Scorpius murmurs. 

Albus reaches up to him and pulls him in for a slow, lingering kiss. When they part he rests his forehead against Scorpius's and closes his eyes. "I promise I will." 


	3. House and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Albus goes home after helping to extract the bodies from the house, he and Scorpius discover the true depth and power of the curse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments so far. You're all awesome, and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic!

They gather in the Auror Department, scattered through the centre set of cubicles. They're all dressed in Muggle winter clothing – a mix of woolly jumpers, hats, and scarves – because it's freezing outside. The only inauthentic thing they wear are thin jackets, which are light enough that they can move well, but have a Warming Charm woven into them. Albus perches on the edge of his desk, swinging his feet back and forth. He has a bobble hat pulled down over his ears, Scorpius's old Slytherin scarf wrapped round his neck, and his gloved hands are scrunched into fists in his jacket pockets. 

"Hopefully the house will be deserted," Harry says, gesturing to a diagram of the house and grounds chalked up on a blackboard behind him. "In an ideal world this would be a quick in-and-out job, but we can't count on it. I don't want anyone in that house, so we stay outside and do our best to extricate the bodies through the windows. If for some reason we have to go in there, I'll take the lead, and I'll need you all to follow my instructions to the letter, understood?" There's a general murmur of assent, and Harry nods. 

He looks around at the crowd, every inch of him strong and stern. He looks perfectly composed, but Albus can see the dark circles under his eyes – he’s spent the night worrying. He’s scared. "No one else is dying in that place. We get the bodies, we do it safely, and we get out. Very simple, yes?”

“Yes,” the Aurors echo.

“Good.” Harry starts issuing specific instructions to different people, and sorting everyone into teams. There's lots more studying of the diagram, but Albus doesn't look at it. He knows the grounds well enough, and he knows he won't be allowed anywhere near the house, so he doesn't bother worrying about it. Presumably he'll be staying at the back, hardly involved in the mission.

"Albus," Harry says, finally reaching him through the crowd. "I want you to stay with me. You might be able to give us useful information." 

Albus feels a rush of excitement. Sticking with Harry during a mission usually means the exact opposite of hanging back and not being involved. Maybe this won't be such a dull day after all. "Alright!" He says. 

"Don't leave my side," Harry says, deadly serious. "I want to keep you safe." 

Albus hops down from the desk. "I'll be sensible. I promise." 

"Good," Harry says, then he turns to the rest of the Aurors and claps his hands. "Okay, let's go." 

With a lot of commotion and chaos, the Aurors start moving out of the department and through the Ministry to the Apparition points. They'll be Apparating to the village where the house is in small groups, and surrounding the building. It's more subtle than descending on it all at once. 

Harry and Albus are two of the last to leave. They wander up to the Muggle street beyond the Ministry walls and find a deserted back alley to set off from. They appear half a mile or so down the lane from the house and stroll along, chatting about the latest racing broom that's just launched and trying to look like they’re just out for a casual morning stroll.

It's a chilly morning, made even colder by the fact that they're in the countryside. Open fields roll around them, bordered by bare hedges and windswept trees. The sky overhead is pale blue and cloudless. On the ground, a fine carpet of frost glitters, and the road is a little slippery to walk on, so they stick to the verge, frozen grass crunching beneath their feet. An icy breeze whips in across the flat land and makes Albus shiver and hunch his shoulders against the chill.

After five minutes of walking, they reach the edges of the village, and silver coated fields give way to vegetable patches and thatched cottages. It doesn't take long to find the old house. It's the most untidy one in the village, occupying a big plot of land all on its own. The hedges around it are tall and unkempt, and there's an unfriendly atmosphere to it. It looks abandoned and run down, and Albus assumes it hasn’t been occupied in years.

They bid a casual good morning to a couple of the other Aurors as they pass by, heading for their position. One of the things about being an Auror that Albus will never quite get used to is the skill with which his colleagues can simply disappear. Somehow nearly twenty people have blended into the hedges and deserted road, and they barely see anyone else as they reach the garden gate. 

"Disillusionment Charms," Harry murmurs. 

Together they raise their wands and the incantation trickles down the backs of their necks. Albus shivers and hugs his jacket tighter round himself. He hates being Disillusioned, but it's easier than using the Invisibility Cloak. There's no chance of it slipping off, or of someone catching a glimpse of their feet. The only disadvantage, aside from the fact that it’s cold and uncomfortable, is that they can't see each other.

"Through the gate," Harry's disembodied voice whispers, and the gate creaks open of its own accord, just enough for them to slip inside. 

As Albus passes through into the garden, his chest gives a twinge of pain, but he ignores it. He may have made a promise, but he's not backing out just for a little thing like that. The pain in his chest has been coming and going all morning; it might not even have anything to do with the house. 

He feels Harry's arm brush against his, and he reaches out and grasps hold of his dad's jacket. 

"Yeah, I'm here," Harry mutters. "Do you recognise anything? Which window do you think we should go in through?"

Albus keeps tight hold of his dad and looks up at the house. It‘s just the way it was a couple of days ago, although it's considerably less creepy in daylight, and there's none of the strange black smoke in the air now. The windows are all shattered, the brickwork is crumbling, and round the side of the house a big tree grows so close against the wall that it's a wonder the foundations haven't been destroyed. The branches snake along the walls and brush the empty, peeling window frames. It looks familiar, and Albus frowns, racking his brain to figure out why. 

As he does, it's like a lightning bolt has struck him. His head and chest throb, and for a moment his vision blurs and he can't breathe. He grabs wildly at Harry for support, clinging to his dad’s jacket as his knees buckle. He just about manages to keep himself upright. 

"Albus?" Harry hisses, twisting and grabbing hold of Albus's arm to support him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Albus gasps. "Yes, I just-" He blinks several times to clear the stars in his vision, and tries to ignore the pounding in his head. "You see the big tree? Round the side of the house?" He presses a hand to his forehead and tries to maintain consciousness. The world is fading at the edges. His heart is beating very fast and hard, and it feels constricted, like if it beats any harder it might explode. 

"Yes," Harry says, gripping his waist and struggling to hold him up. "I can see it."

"They're in there. I-I tried to climb down the tree, but I fell and-" He whimpers and sags onto the ground, clutching his chest. 

"Mobilicorpus," Harry says, and Albus feels his body float upwards, lifted and supported by the spell. Normally he'd fight against it, but he somehow knows that being outside the hedges will help, and there's no way he could make it on his own. His legs feel weak, he feels sick and faint. The house feels like a tangible presence, sitting heavy on his chest and pounding at his head. Dark and dangerous and overwhelming. The sooner he gets away, the better. 

Behind him he sees a flash of red sparks in the air, and hears the hedges rustling. The spell is still manipulating him, keeping him moving out of the gate and onto the path beyond. When he gets there the spell releases and he finds himself dumped onto the pavement in a heap. He rolls onto his back and gasps in deep lungfuls of air as the hedges hide the house from the view and the pressure in his chest and head release. 

The ground is freezing cold. It's enough to shock his head clear. He already feels less like he's going to pass out now, although he feels rather sick. He rolls onto his side and looks around for Harry, but his dad is nowhere to be seen. 

He peels himself off the pavement and peers through the gate to see a circle of Aurors closing in on the house. His head aches when he looks in even the vague direction of the house, so he quickly glances away. He plants one of his hands on the frost covered ground and closes his eyes. Everything is reassuringly silent. No crack of spells that would mean a battle going on behind him. Just breeze through the leaves, and the occasional sound of a car passing down the Muggle lane. 

It's almost too quiet. In the silence there's nothing to shut out the throbbing in his head and chest, and he presses a hand over his heart and curls in on himself. After a few minutes he feels the Disillusionment trickle off of him. Any Muggle could see him now, but the gnawing burn in his chest is making him incapable of movement. The second he gets up he thinks his heart might tear itself to pieces. Either that or he'll throw up or pass out or something. Nothing good. It's better to be exposed but conscious in a situation like this.

Apparating to somewhere more comfortable and better hidden would probably be a good idea. He considers it vaguely, but he doesn't get far with working out how to make his body obey him enough to do it before he hears footsteps behind him. With considerable effort he turns his head to see not a Muggle, but his dad, rushing along the path to him. 

"Are you okay, Albus?"

He nods. "Fine. Definitely fine." 

"You don't look fine." Harry puts an arm round his waist and helps him to his feet. "We got the bodies out alright. I don't think there's anyone in there now, lucky for us." 

"Great," Albus says, without much enthusiasm. It's a bit difficult to be enthusiastic when he's concentrating so hard on staying upright and not throwing up or passing out. He really does feel terribly sick, and the last thing he needs is to vomit all over his dad. 

"Someone else is handling them, so I'm free to take you back to St Mungo's," Harry says, already guiding Albus up the street to a safe Apparition point. 

"Not the hospital," Albus protests, struggling to get free of his dad's grip. "I want to go home. If I sleep I'll be fine. Scorpius said he'd wait there. I want Scorpius." 

"You don't look well," Harry says. "You should be in hospital, Albus, where someone can keep an eye on you." 

"Scorpius can keep an eye on me," Albus argues, wrenching himself from his dad's grip and managing a couple of steps on his own before collapsing onto the ground. 

Harry grabs hold of him and hauls him back to his feet. "You're not making a good case for yourself doing that. Albus, I'm going to take you-" 

"I don't want to go to the hospital!" Albus shouts, voice slicing through the crisp, brittle air. He doesn't know where the sudden rush of anger comes from. It sweeps out of nowhere – swirling inside him like black smoke, making his head and chest pound – and then it subsides like it was never there, leaving him feeling dizzy and breathless. 

He clings to his dad's arm and takes several deep breaths. "I want to go home," he says, and his voice breaks. "Please, Dad." 

Harry looks at him for a very long moment, then he adjusts his grip, draping Albus's arm round his shoulder and taking hold of his waist. "Do you think you'll be okay if I Apparate?" 

"Home?" Albus asks, desperate. 

"You'll be safe with Scorpius," Harry says. "I can't deny that. If he thinks you need St Mungo's, he'll take you." 

"Yes," Albus says, relief rushing through him. He feels dizzy and confused, but Scorpius has always grounded him. That should be obvious to Harry by now. Scorpius will take care of him. And there's nothing that will make him feel better now than a long sleep in his own bed, in his own room, with Scorpius nearby. That's what he needs. 

"I'll take you home then," Harry says, "but we'll need Scorpius to look at the bodies soon, so you'll need to come to the hospital eventually." 

Albus sags against his side, legs like jelly. Although the pain and sickness are subsiding with every step he takes away from the house, it's leaving behind exhaustion, like debris left on a beach by the outgoing tide. He can barely stand now, and his eyes are already starting to flutter closed. 

"Just..." he yawns and rubs a hand against his ribs. "Just as long as I can sleep... First." 

Harry nods. "I think we can give you a few hours." 

 

The room is dark apart from the lamp on Scorpius's bedside table, which casts a golden glow across his side of the bed. He's sitting up, blankets draped over his knees, reading the paper. Albus is curled up beside him, sleeping soundly, the way he has been ever since Harry brought him back from the mission earlier. 

Scorpius glances down to check on him, and sees that Albus’s fingers are still curled into the soft wool of his jumper, clinging to him for comfort. Albus’s eyes are still closed, face still relaxed. He looks so peaceful, and calm, and his hair is ruffled and fluffy, the way it gets once he's been sleeping for a while. Scorpius can't resist reaching out and stroking it, slowly carding his fingers through the soft strands. It means he has to turn the pages of the paper one-handed, but it's worth it. 

He doesn't know how long he reads before he feels Albus's grip shift on his jumper. He glances down at the sensation, and smiles as he sees his husband's eyes fluttering open. 

"Hello, sleepyhead,” he says, ruffling Albus's hair. 

Albus bats his hand away. "Don't do that," he says, sounding drowsy and irritable. Albus is always easily annoyed when he wakes up. 

Scorpius withdraws his hand. "My apologies. Did you sleep well?" 

Albus gives a tight little shrug and rubs his eyes. "What are you reading?" 

Scorpius folds the paper up and shows him the front page. "The Prophet." 

Albus sighs and rolls his eyes. "I know _that_. I know you don't believe it but I'm not a complete idiot. Just because I'm not a super-intelligent Healer." 

Scorpius frowns down at him. "Are you okay, Albus?" There's being a bit grumpy, and then there's this. Usually Albus is up for a joke when he wakes up; there’d be a hint of sarcasm to his comment, but not today. 

"No," Albus says flatly. "My head hurts and I feel sick." 

Scorpius turns and really looks at Albus. He’s unusually pale, his skin looks a bit clammy, and the usual bright green of his eyes is cloudy and dull. He really does look awful. "Albus," he says gently, reaching for his wand. "Please can I have a look at you?" 

Albus shakes his head and the bed shifts as he rolls onto his side and props himself up, running a hand through his hair. "I'm fine." 

"But you just said-" 

"It's been hurting like this for days," Albus snaps. "It's no worse. I'm okay." He gestures to Scorpius's paper. "What's the news? Are they writing about the deaths again?" 

Scorpius hesitates before he picks up the paper. “Of course they are.” He tries to keep his tone light and his words neutral. If Albus is in a difficult mood he doesn’t want to provoke him. "Did you expect anything different? It's a big story, and people have the right to know about it. They're worried." He meets Albus's eyes and is shocked by how cold they are. There's none of the usual fire in them. Apprehension grips Scorpius’s heart, and the Healer in him surfaces and tells him that this is a situation he needs to keep an eye on. "I'm worried too," he says. "I'll be worried until you're better and the people who did this to you and the others are in Azkaban." 

"You don't need to worry about me," Albus scoffs. 

"I know," Scorpius says, and normally he'd mean it – Albus is very much capable of taking care of himself – but right now? Right now he’s not so sure. Albus doesn’t seem aware that anything is wrong with him, but Scorpius can tell. Even if he wasn’t experienced at noticing the subtle changes associated with curse effects, he’d spot the signs in his husband: the tightening of his shoulders and jaw, the shortness in his voice, the lack of shine in his eyes. Everything is off, and Scorpius is afraid. 

Albus bows his head and rubs a hand against his chest. Scorpius watches him for a second, eyeing that movement. Albus must be in pain. The curses are doing something inside him, and Scorpius can't possibly guess what. All he can do is keep Albus calm, keep him talking, try to convince him that he needs painkillers or an examination or something. Above all, Scorpius needs to work out what's going on, and try not to let emotions get in the way. This is the part where being Albus’s husband as well as his Healer will make everything more difficult.

"I wasn't reading about that anyway," Scorpius says, opening the paper up, trying to keep his tone steady. Talking about something mundane might keep Albus calm. "Did you hear about that girl who disappeared?" 

Albus snorts derisively. "Of course. I don't know why they're bothering to look for her. She's probably been dead for years." 

Scorpius stares at him in disbelief, his professionalism melting away in an instant. He's never known Albus to be so unsympathetic, especially about something like this. 

"Don't look at me like that," Albus snaps, struggling to get the blankets off him so he can sit up. Scorpius picks the duvet up to help him, and receives a glare for his trouble. "We both know it's true." 

Scorpius struggles as hard as he can not to react, but it's so hard. "It may be true but you don't have to say it like that. It's a little..." He trails off and shakes his head. 

"A little?" Albus prompts, nodding for him to continue, expression hard and cold as tarnished copper.

"Blunt," Scorpius replies, and instantly regrets it. 

Albus makes a disgusted noise and twists away from Scorpius. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and curls in on himself. 

Scorpius sets the paper aside and slides across the bed to Albus, keeping a few inches between them. "Sorry," he says, hovering his hands behind Albus’s back, wanting to reach out to him but knowing it would be the wrong thing to do. "I shouldn't have said that. Are you okay?" 

"You meant it," Albus mutters. "Don't apologise for something you meant." 

Scorpius swallows and pulls his hands back. He knows a thousand ways of dealing with people who’ve been cursed, but he doesn’t know what to do now, here, with his husband. He feels lost in this situation, the one he should be able to deal with best of all. 

“Albus...” he murmurs. “I'd really like to examine you quickly. It won't hurt you at all. It's just a spell. I want to make sure-" 

"Don't you think I've had enough spells put on me?" Albus spits at him. He rubs his chest, shoulders tight, and he curls his toes into the carpet. 

Scorpius opens his mouth then closes it again, not sure what to say to that. For someone he knows so well, Albus has an uncanny ability to stun him. Sometimes he comes out with the utterly unexpected, and this is one of those moments. 

"I don't see why you're so bothered about that story anyway," Albus continues before Scorpius can even think of anything to say, gesturing back at the paper. "You've made it quite clear that you're not interested in kids." 

Scorpius reels back, feeling like he's been slapped. "Excuse me?" He stares at Albus in amazement. He knows this isn't Albus speaking, it's the curses, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It's still coming from Albus, in his voice, from his unapproachable, tense little body. 

Albus nods and lays his palm flat over his heart. "How long have you been making your list?" he asks. "Two years? If you cared even a bit about having children you wouldn't have to think so hard about it." He looks across at Scorpius, jaw tense, expression hard. "It's fine. You can say it. You don't want them. I won't be offended."

Scorpius pulls away from him, back to the other side of the bed. "Okay," he says, fighting to keep his voice steady, to keep himself under control. He sits on his heels and gathers himself together. He's trained to stay calm under pressure, and this is definitely pressure. "Okay," he repeats, struggling to do the right thing and keep his emotions out of the way. “I really think we should go to St Mungo's. I don't think you're well enough to be-"

"I'm fine!" Albus shouts, getting to his feet and spinning around to face Scorpius. "I'm perfectly fine. I don't need the hospital. I just need you to stop being so indecisive and awkward. You can't make a simple decision, can you? You're not brave enough. You're pathetic." 

Scorpius blinks rapidly and bows his head. His chest feels tight and his hands are shaking. When he speaks, he keeps his voice low and soothing, like he's talking to a patient, which, he reminds himself, is exactly what he's doing right now. In this situation he has to think of Albus as his patient. It's not as if he hasn’t been attacked by a patient before. It's never felt this personal though. It’s never hurt this much. This is new. 

"I don't know where this is coming from," he says, tone strained. There are tears coming. He can feel them, thick and hot, clogging up his throat. "I'm not sure what I've done to make you say any of this. But I know it’s the curses speaking. I know that. I know that you don't want to be saying any of this, Albus. You're sick. Very sick. And I would really appreciate it if you could sit down for a second while I examine-"

"I don't need you," Albus spits. "I don't need looking after." He stalks across the room away from Scorpius, now sliding his hand under his shirt to rub at his heart. 

Scorpius takes a very deep breath, slides off the bed, and starts walking to him. "Albus,” he says, frustration finally creeping into his voice, making it rise and break. “I can make it stop hurting. Just let me-"

"You know, I'm starting to think I don't want them either," Albus says, cutting across him. "Kids." He gives a little twitch the might almost be a shudder. "Noisy, time-consuming little brats. Messy and disgusting. Get in the way of everything. I don't think they're worth the trouble." 

"You don't think that," Scorpius says, shaking his head and advancing further across the room. "Albus-"

"Don't tell me what I do and don't think," Albus snaps.

"No," Scorpius says, determination hard in his voice. He knows he shouldn't fight back, but he won't let Albus lose himself like this. "I _am_ going to tell you what you think, because this isn't you. _You_ wouldn't be saying these things. You wouldn't want to say these things. So I'm not going to let you." 

"You don't know me," Albus says, standing square in the middle of the room and turning to glare at Scorpius. "You don't know what's in my head." 

"True," Scorpius says, walking right up to him. "But I'm your husband, and I grew up with you. I've known you for years. And even if I don't know what you're thinking, I know what's in your heart. And it's not this." For a moment he's tempted to try and reach out for Albus's hand, but he thinks better of it. "I know you want kids, Albus. I know you love kids. And I'm sorry I'm not decisive enough for you. But sometimes things matter enough to take time over them."

"You're calling me impulsive," Albus says. 

Scorpius groans, frustration overtaking him. "That's not what I said." 

"You as good as said it." Albus turns his back on Scorpius. "You think I rush into things. You think I'm hot headed. Which may be true, but what you are is worse. Neurotic. Over-complicated. Obstructive. You hold me back. You always have and you always will. You're like a rock I have to drag around with me all the time. You and your perfectionism and your boring career. In fact," he glances back in Scorpius's direction, eyes almost black in the low light of the room, expression cruel. "I don't know why I married you. I'd be better off on my own."

Scorpius steps back and swallows hard. The words cut deep into his heart, worse than any physical pain. "You don't mean that," he murmurs. His throat is tight, tears sting his eyes, and Albus's outline starts to blur. He feels shattered to the core, and all he can do is try to remember that this isn't Albus. Whatever is saying these words is a brilliant piece of dark magic. It's not his husband, his husband who he loves; who loves him back. 

He clenches his hands together and feels the cool press of his wedding ring, and he tries to remember how radiantly happy Albus had looked on their wedding day. That's his husband. That's Albus Severus Potter. That's who he's fighting for right now. “You really _do not mean that_ ," he repeats, voice choked but determined. 

"Yes, I do," Albus spits over his shoulder. "In fact I don't know why I'm still here. I'm leaving. Don't bother following me." He starts marching across the room. 

“Albus, stop,” Scorpius says, following him and trying to catch hold of his wrist, wanting to pull him back and make him see reason. 

“No.” Albus wrenches his arm free and draws his wand, pointing it at Scorpius. “Let me go.”

Scorpius stumbles back, terror and bewilderment pounding through his veins. Albus has never threatened him before, and seeing him now with that blank expression and the wand pointed straight at Scorpius’s heart is horrifying. It’s a nightmare. All this has to be a terrible dream. This cannot be happening.

He raises his hands in surrender because he knows better than to argue with a highly trained Auror, and that’s what Albus is. Deadly. Wickedly skilled and dangerous. He wipes his eyes on his sleeve and nods, because as much as he wants to he can’t fight this. “Fine,” he says, the words getting stuck in his throat. “Go then.” He stands there, arms wrapped round his stomach, feeling sick, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Albus keeps his wand pointed at Scorpius a moment longer, as if to make sure he’s going to stay there, then he pockets it, turns away, and doesn't look back. He keeps his back to Scorpius and marches to the door. He wrenches it open and is halfway out when suddenly his whole body goes rigid. A strangled whimper of pain escapes him, and he collapses onto the floor in an awkward heap. There's a thump as he hits the ground, and he doesn’t move. 

Everything is still. Silence descends on the room, broken only by the sniffling of Scorpius’s tears, and the blood rushing in his ears.

He hesitates for a moment, expecting Albus to fight his way up again and keep going, certain his intervention won't be wanted. But Albus doesn't get up. He stays there, crumpled, unmoving. After another very long, very quiet few seconds, Scorpius draws his wand and inches forward. 

“Albus?" He breathes. 

Still no movement. 

Scorpius’s heart is pounding. He sniffs and wipes his eyes so he can see properly as he creeps towards his motionless husband. His hands are shaking. There’s still no movement from the crumpled heap on the floor, and for a wild moment he‘s terrified Albus might be dead.

Then Albus twitches. One of his hands splays across the floor and he struggles to push himself up. 

"Scorpius?" He murmurs, voice hoarse and weak. 

Scorpius's heart clenches. It's the last thing he wants to do right now but Albus – the real Albus, _his_ Albus – is very sick. He needs him. So Scorpius rushes to his side, brushing away tears as he goes. 

He kneels on the floor and puts a hand on Albus's shoulder. "I'm here. You're alright."

Albus looks up at him. He scans Scorpius's face, emerald eyes catching the light. They're bright again, the dullness gone. It really is him, and that makes the tears drip faster down Scorpius's cheeks. Scorpius has to gulp down a sob, sniff in a breath, and try to compose himself, because Albus is studying him with a little worried frown on his face.

"You're crying," Albus says, reaching out to him, settling a gentle hand on his arm. "Why are you crying? Why am I down here? Did-did Dad just bring me home?" He rubs his forehead and drags himself into a sitting position. He looks around himself, confused and uncertain, lost in the middle of his own bedroom. 

Scorpius sniffs and wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. "Just... Stay still a moment, okay? Does anything hurt at all? Does your chest hurt?" He avoids Albus's eyes and starts casting diagnostic spells, because he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't know how to explain what just happened. He wants to know Albus isn't hurting, but he doesn't know where to start with reassuring him that it's all okay, because it's not. 

"A bit," Albus says. He takes hold of Scorpius's left wrist, stopping the movement of his wand. "Please tell me why you're crying." 

"It's not important," Scorpius says, easing his arm free and carrying on with the weaving motions of his spells. "I want to cast a spell to take some of the pain away. Is that alright?" 

Albus pushes himself onto his knees and runs a hand down Scorpius's arm. "What did I say to you?" 

Scorpius’s heart stops. Albus knows that he caused Scorpius’s pain. Maybe it wasn’t that difficult to figure it out – why else would he be crying like this? 

Scorpius swallows and shakes his head. " _You_ didn't say anything. It was the curses." He puts a hand on either side of Albus's face, to hold him still while he examines his eyes. "You really don't remember anything?" 

Albus shakes his head. "No, but I know I said something. You're not looking at me. You're crying." He touches a shaking hand to Scorpius's shoulder. "Please. I at least want to know what I need to apologise for." 

Scorpius takes a very deep breath and forces himself to meet Albus's eyes. "Nothing. There's nothing. Like I said, it wasn't you." 

"But if I said it, I must have thought it at some point. It must have come from somewhere.” He draws in a shaky breath. “I know how these things work, Scorpius. I'm not a Healer, I don't know as much about curses as you, but I know that when people say things they say them for a reason." He runs his hands up to Scorpius's jaw, touch warm and gentle, eyes full of fear and unhappiness.

"You said..." Scorpius takes hold of Albus's hands and removes them from his face, but he doesn't let go of them. Albus's fingers rest on top of his own, both their wedding rings glinting in the light. "You said you didn't know why you married me." 

Albus pulls his hands from Scorpius's grip, and stares at him in horror. "What?" 

Scorpius nods, and another couple of tears drip down his cheeks. He wipes them on his sleeve, and sits back on his heels. "That's what you said. A-and I know it wasn't you, that you'd never- But I'm still upset." He looks at Albus's pale, shocked face, and the tears start to come thicker and faster, until Albus is just a blur, and the hallway around him is just indistinct light and colour. 

"I'm sorry," Albus murmurs. He sounds raw with shock. "I-I don't know what to... Scorpius, I'm _sorry._ I-"

"I know," Scorpius says, holding up a hand to stop him. "I know. I-" He shakes his head. Suddenly he can't bear the idea of spending the night alone in this house with Albus. Whatever happens now, Albus will be quiet and miserable and upset, and Scorpius knows they'll both be hurting, and he's seized with the overwhelming desire to escape. To run away somewhere. "I-I think I might go to the Manor for a bit. I haven't seen my dad in a while, and I'd quite like to-" He mops the tears from his eyes with his fingers and looks across at Albus. 

Albus nods. "I understand," he whispers.

"You should go to your parents'," Scorpius says, business-like, not wanting to feel anymore because feeling really hurts right now. "I don't want you on your own. They'll look after you. And then tomorrow I have to go and review those bodies, but you should come to the hospital. I need to have a look into these curses. I need to make sure that this-" he gestures between the two of them, "doesn't happen again." 

"Okay," Albus says, hollow and very quiet. Like he's been emptied of all energy and emotion. "Of course. I'll- I'll go by Floo. And I'll see you tomorrow. At the hospital." 

Scorpius nods. "Around lunchtime. But if anything hurts you should go tonight. Someone will look after you." 

"Right." 

Scorpius licks his lips, and tastes nothing but hot, salted water. He sniffs and gets to his feet. "Please... Look after yourself." 

"You too," Albus murmurs. He stares up at Scorpius from the floor, apparently at a loss for what to do or say. He looks as numb and broken as Scorpius feels. "Say-say hi to your dad from me."

"Of course," Scorpius says. "Goodnight." 

As he walks away down the stairs he realises it's the coldest way he's said goodnight to Albus in years. No 'I love you' or 'sweet dreams'. No smile. No hair ruffle. No attempt to tuck him up more warmly under the blankets. 

And as he reaches the bottom of the stairs he hears Albus start to cry behind him. His whole body goes cold, and fresh tears spill down his own cheeks. He knows he shouldn’t walk away. He knows he should make sure Albus gets home safely, or that he should run back and hug Albus and tell him everything’s okay and try to make up on the spot. But he can't make himself do it, because right now all he can think of when he looks at Albus are the echoes of those words. " _I don't know why I married you. I'd be better off on my own_."

Heartbroken, and full of a wash of guilt and regret and angry anxiety, he pushes the front door open and walks out into the freezing night. The stars are frosted overhead, and the moon is pale. He shivers and hugs himself. He didn't bring a cloak or anything. But at least it'll be warm at the Manor. There'll be a fire lit in the library, and his dad will be there. They might even have tea. Things will be better there.

He squares his shoulders against the chill night breeze, turns away into crushing darkness, and disappears. 


	4. Inspecting the Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot sweet tea and a chat in the Malfoy Manor library can fix almost anything, but it won't tell Scorpius or Harry who murdered the Aurors and cursed Albus. A review of the bodies and a bit of healing leads to a stunning revelation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter I've been keeping secret for a year and a half now. I hope you enjoy...

The doorbell clangs. Scorpius can hear it echoing through the Manor hallways as he stands shivering on the doorstep. His cheeks are raw with frozen tears, and he can feel a headache building up. His stomach feels hollow and nauseous. It's all he can do to keep holding himself together.

He blows on his fingers and wriggles his toes while he waits. After a minute he wonders if maybe his dad is asleep and hasn't heard, if maybe he should just let himself in and not try and disturb Draco. But then, a couple of seconds later, the door creaks open to reveal his dad standing there. He's wrapped up in a green silk dressing gown, hair down, apparently ready for bed. He looks bleary eyed and exhausted, but when he sees Scorpius his expression changes from irritation to surprise. 

"Scorpius!" he says. "What are you doing here? Are you okay? Has something happened to Albus, or-" 

The mention of Albus's name and the relief of seeing his dad is too much. Scorpius bows his head and curls in on himself, the last of his control shattering as he starts to sob. 

His dad pauses for a moment, apparently taken aback by his sudden collapse. Then he steps forward and Scorpius feels strong hands guiding him over the threshold and into the warm house. The door closes behind them, and an arm wraps around his shoulders as he finds himself drawn in against his dad's chest. It's the sort of solid, unconditional, uncomplicated hug that they've managed to achieve over years of hard work, and it's never been more welcome. Scorpius buries his face in his dad's shoulder and clings to him, fingers slipping against the silk, desperate, gulping sobs making his body shake. 

Draco brushes his fingers through Scorpius's hair and kisses the top of his head, drawing him in tighter. "It's going to be okay," Draco promises. "Whatever it is, we can fix it. And even if we can't, we'll deal with it together." 

"I- I wanted- I couldn't- I needed to-" Scorpius shakes his head and gives up on trying to say anything. He doesn't know where to start. He wants to tell his dad everything, but at the same time he wants to keep it all to himself. He knows it wasn't Albus's fault, he doesn't want his dad to get angry. But on the other hand he wants advice and comfort. He wants his dad fighting on his behalf. He wants someone to reassure him that Albus can't possibly in a million years have meant what he said.

"Let's go up to the library," Draco says, setting a hand on Scorpius's back and pulling away far enough to look at him. "It's been draughty down here lately. I think one of the Atmospheric Charms might be wearing off.“

Scorpius takes a deep breath and nods. He unwraps his arms from round his dad and wipes his eyes on his sleeve with a sniff. "You should get someone in to fix that," he says. "It gets cold enough in here as it is." 

"I'll sort it out at some point," Draco says. He gives Scorpius a gentle little nudge in the direction of the stairs. "Come on. You look half frozen. Did you not even bring a cloak?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. I-I just left. I just..." More tears come welling up at the memory of Albus sobbing as he’d walked away, a small, lonely figure abandoned and lost on their bedroom floor. If he’d taken more time, if he’d taken a breath, maybe they could have fixed things there and then, but he didn’t, he couldn’t, and now... He wipes his eyes and gulps in a few breaths, struggling to steady himself. 

Draco looks at Scorpius for a long moment, then he gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You can borrow one of mine when you leave. If you're good I'll even let you have the one with the silver fastenings that you keep trying to steal." 

Scorpius manages a shaky smile. "I don't know what you mean," he says, and despite everything, despite the weight of guilt, he feels undeniably a bit lighter now the darkness of Albus's curses is far away from him. 

Draco ruffles his hair. "Yes you do. Come on, upstairs. The fire should still be going. It'll be nice and warm." 

"Can we have tea?" Scorpius asks. "Mum always said that... that sweet tea could fix anything." 

"She was a very wise woman, your mother. You definitely got that from her." 

Scorpius brushes a few final tears from his cheeks and nods at his dad. "You're wise too. You give good advice." 

Draco gives a very small smile. "Let's hope I live up to expectations today then," he says. 

"You will," Scorpius replies. "You're my dad." 

Ten minutes later the two of them are up in the library. Scorpius is curled up on the sofa, a blanket wrapped round his shoulders like a cloak. He cradles his mug of sweet tea in his hands, slowly thawing out his fingers, enjoying the smell of sugar and vanilla. Draco is sitting across in his usual armchair, his own mug of tea on the coffee table. He doesn't say anything. He seems content to wait and watch for Scorpius to take the lead, and Scorpius doesn't feel any pressure to hurry up and start talking. 

Scorpius sips his tea slowly, letting the warmth sink into his bones. These days his dad's tea is almost as comforting as his mum's used to be. Perhaps he should have outgrown this sort of thing by now, but even as an adult there's nothing that makes him feel better than milky, sugary tea drunk by the fire in the Manor library. Even Albus's secret recipe hot chocolate isn't as comforting as this. Scorpius guesses it's the feeling of nostalgia and familiarity that makes it feel so good. 

Finally he lowers his mug and looks across at his dad. "Did you and Mum ever fight?" He asks. 

If Draco is surprised by the question he hides it very well. A slow, reminiscent smile spreads across his face and his eyes brighten as he leans back in his chair. He always looks like this when he thinks about Astoria, lighter and carefree. Her loss is still felt, but the pain has been blunted by passing time, and most of what's left is happy memories and unfettered love.

"Of course," he says. "All the time... Usually it was my fault. When I was younger I had a tendency to speak before thinking, and a lot of what I said was unacceptable. She was never afraid to tell me exactly how reprehensible I was being.” He picks his mug up and turns it round between his fingers. “But of course she had her flaws too. Stubborn, argumentative, especially about the things that mattered most, perfectionist to the nth degree... I remember we spent years fighting over whether to have you. You were our favourite topic to argue over. And of course she ended up being right. She usually was." 

He pauses and gives Scorpius a long look, the tiniest concerned frown creasing his forehead. "Is that why you've turned up on my doorstep in tears in the middle of the night? You and Albus had a fight?" 

Scorpius looks down at his tea and gives a miserable little nod. "It's not like we've never fought before, but this was different... The curses- They pulled things out of him. Made him say things. And I know it wasn't his fault, but I'm still... It still hurt."

"What did he say?" Draco asks, with a sort of strained calm. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I'd rather not..." 

"But it was bad enough that you're here and not at home." 

Scorpius hesitates, then nods. "It was the curses though, not him. I'm not angry at him. I can forgive him for saying it all. It was probably unfair of me to leave at all. I-I just..." He swallows. "I wish I knew how much of it is really a problem. I don't know if he really thinks I'm... all the things he said I was." He gathers the blankets tighter round his shoulders and takes a long sip of tea, avoiding his dad's gaze. 

Draco takes a sip of his tea, holds the cup in his hand for a moment, then sets it down on the coffee table. He seems to be forcing himself to consider his words before he says them. Scorpius presumes he doesn't trust himself to speak right away, and Scorpius is glad that he's taking the time. He'd been afraid of his dad overreacting, or getting angry at Albus, and that's the last thing he wants. He's not upset with Albus. He's upset with everything; the situation. 

"Well," Draco says finally. "The only person who can tell you what's in Albus's head is Albus." He leans forward in his chair and looks across at Scorpius. "What _I_ can tell you is that you're a brilliant person, and a wonderful son, and that’s the truth as I see it. But whatever Albus said to you, I can't set your mind to rest about that, because I'm not him." 

"I know you're not," Scorpius murmurs, messing with the corner of his blanket. 

"Sometimes the most important conversations are the hardest to have," Draco says softly. "Your mother taught me that. There are questions that are terrifying to ask, and things that feel too big to say, but usually those are the things most worth saying. I know you understand that." 

Scorpius looks at him and nods. He can still vividly remember the day he first told his dad that he loved Albus, and he'd been so scared he could barely stand still because he was shaking so much. It had felt like an insurmountable truth to say, but once it was out there it was like all the weight had been lifted from him. In the end it wasn’t the fear of the reaction itself that had been so hard, it was the fear of the unknown in a situation that meant everything to him. 

"Sometimes it's really worth being brave," Draco says. "And you are brave, Scorpius. You're brave, and you love him, and I know you're strong enough to fight for him."

Scorpius taps his fingernails against the rim of his mug, and stares down at the murky brown tea inside. "Do you really think I am?" He asks softly. "Brave?" 

"That can't possibly be a serious question," Draco says, without so much as a twitch of a smile. 

Scorpius looks at him and swallows. "I don't know." 

Draco's expression goes very serious, and hard with determination. "Of course you're brave, Scorpius. I've known you were brave ever since you were very young. I think you take after your mother in that way. Anything the world throws at you, you find a way to keep going, and you help everyone along with you. Your bravery is inspiring, Scorpius." He pauses and gives a very small smile. "At least, it is to me." 

Scorpius stares at him for a second, cheeks feeling very warm all of a sudden, then he shakes his head and puts his cup down on the coffee table. "But what about big decisions? I'm so slow with those. I can't take risks. Not really. I spend so long thinking things through, and worrying about the consequences... I sit here and worry and never get anything done, even the things I really want... I know I frustrate Albus all the time. I can't move fast enough for him. I can't-" He gestures with his hands, hoping to illustrate how irritating he must be, then sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. 

Draco frowns at him. "Is that true? You have plenty of things that are important to you. You've made plenty of big decisions. You just work in a different way to Albus. He jumps into things; sometimes he can be reckless, such is the Potter way. But you take your time. You took your time over deciding your career, and getting together with Albus, even marrying him. You just need to gather evidence, and then you commit wholeheartedly and never waver. I've seen it time and time again. And honestly?” He pauses and gives a little smile. “I think you taking your time is good for Albus. You make sure things are well considered. It's part of why you're so good together." 

"But what if I'm taking too long?" Scorpius asks, frustration creeping into his voice. "What if he gives up on me?" 

Draco points across at Scorpius, expression very serious. "Then that is his problem, not yours." He leans forward a little in his seat and looks Scorpius dead in the eye. "You have excellent judgement, Scorpius. I think you should trust it. It's never led you far wrong in the past. And I also think that you should trust your relationship with Albus. You're a strong team, no matter what has happened tonight. You've known each other for so long. Talk to him, work with him. You usually manage to come out of things stronger than ever.”

Scorpius nods and looks down at his hands. He knows his dad is right. And when he thinks about Albus – when he thinks about everything that's happened this evening; the sound of Albus beginning to sob behind him as he walked away – he's seized with a new determination to find him and talk to him and make things okay. 

"I'll see him tomorrow," he murmurs. "At the hospital. I told him to meet me there."

His dad nods. "Are you any closer to getting rid of those curses?" 

Scorpius shakes his head and adjusts his blankets. "Not yet. But I'm going to work on it. I want them gone." 

"Quite understandably." There's a moment of silence, then Draco gets to his feet and walks across to the sofa, sitting beside Scorpius. Scorpius pulls his feet out of the way to make room for him. 

"You've heard it before," Draco says gently, "but it will always bear repeating, that your mother would have been very proud of you. And that you make me proud every day." He beckons to Scorpius who smiles and twists round, curling up against his side. Draco squeezes his shoulders. "I have faith in you. And in my son-in-law, despite his more interesting moments..." 

Scorpius smiles and glances up at his dad. "He's a Potter. All his moments are interesting." 

Draco sighs. "Of course you're right. I don't know how we got tangled up with such a dramatic and ridiculous family." 

"No," Scorpius says seriously. "Our family isn't anything like that. No drama here." 

"Not a bit," Draco says, just as straight-faced. 

The two look at each other for a moment, then Scorpius gives a snort of laughter and collapses against his dad's side, hugging him round the middle. Draco ruffles his hair, and Scorpius realises that he already feels considerably lighter. Even the prospect of having to talk to Albus tomorrow doesn't feel nearly as daunting as it did five minutes ago. Scorpius feels almost ready for it. Hopefully by tomorrow lunchtime he really _will_ be ready.

 

Harry paces up and down the hall outside the mortuary, hands in his pockets. Every minute or so he checks his watch, keeping an eye on the seconds as they tick away. Scorpius isn't late. Not yet anyway. He still has a minute or two to get here. 

Harry rubs his eyes and turns on his heel to walk back down the corridor. He still feels tired after yesterday's long night. Albus had showed up around midnight, a barely coherent mess of tears. It had taken both Harry and Ginny to finally calm him down enough to find out about the fight and find out that he'd said something awful because of the curses; that Scorpius had told him to go home before leaving for the Manor. None of them had got to bed until almost three in the morning, when Albus had finally cried himself to sleep in Ginny's arms. Harry can't help but think that if _he_ can make it here on time after all that, it isn't unreasonable to expect Scorpius to be on time too. 

He turns again and walks up toward the mortuary door, giving his watch another glance. One minute to go. If Scorpius isn't here soon he'll just go in and get started on his own. The drive to get everything sorted out, to find whoever's behind all this and stop them, has only increased in the last few hours. No one should be able to hurt his son the way Albus has been hurt by all this. It's time to put an end to it. 

Running footsteps in the corridor behind him make him spin round. He sees Scorpius puffing round the corner, robes askew, hair a mess. His cloak is slipping off one of his shoulders. He looks pale and flustered, and as tired as Harry feels. 

"Good morning. I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Harry says, checking his watch again. It's right on the hour. Scorpius is bang on time. 

"Sorry," Scorpius gasps. "I didn't realise... I'd left all my work robes at home... Had to run back from the Manor... to get some." 

"Are you ready to go in?" Harry asks. It comes out more stiff and awkward than he meant it to. He'd promised Albus that he wouldn't say anything to Scorpius about last night, and he'd been determined to keep the promise, but now he's faced with Scorpius, and Scorpius is giving him a wary, anxious look, it almost seems inevitable that they'll have to address it. There’s no way they can work together with this looming over them. 

Scorpius runs a hand through his hair and it neatens out immediately, in a way that gives Harry the smallest twinge of jealousy. "Sir," he says carefully, and Harry feels taken aback. Scorpius hasn't called him that in years. 

Harry holds a hand up to stop him. "Whatever you're about to say, save it for Albus."

Scorpius swallows and adjusts his cloak. "But I-"

"I'm serious," Harry says, and it’s a surprise even to himself how fully he means it now he’s started saying the words. "Albus wants to talk to you for himself. There's nothing you need to say to me. Let's focus on this job, and when we're done you can go and fix things with him. Okay?" 

Scorpius looks at him for a moment, then he nods. He undoes his cloak and folds it up, before frowning at Harry. 

"I'm not actually late, am I? I didn't want to keep you waiting. This is important. Solving this." There's a careful stress on his words, and he gestures vaguely with his hands. Harry knows he's talking about Albus. 

"No," Harry says. "You were right on time."

"Okay," Scorpius smooths a hand down the front of his creased robes and nods, drawing in a breath. "That's good." 

It hits Harry again just how exhausted Scorpius looks. Normally he looks so put together, just like his dad, but not right now. It can't have been an easy night for him either. 

Harry reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, we've got work to do. Those bodies won't examine themselves." 

Scorpius looks at him in surprise for a moment, then he gives a small, pleased smile and nods. He jams the cloak into one of the cavernous pockets on his robes and steps forward, leading Harry through the door into the mortuary. 

The room is dingy and small, with white-washed walls and pristine laminate flooring. There’s a weird smell to it that tickles Harry’s nose, and while it’s not strictly unpleasant, it isn’t exactly a delicious perfume either. A single ball of clinical, white light floats near the ceiling, casting all the corners into shadows. The bodies they're here to see are ready for them, suspended in a row in mid-air, surrounded by a bubble of preservative spells and enchantments. 

"Have you had time to have a look at them already?" Scorpius asks. "Did you see them when you got them from the house?"

Harry shakes his head. "I was too busy with Albus. Someone else sent them here."

"These are first impressions for both of us then," Scorpius says. He walks over to one of the bodies, drawing his wand as he goes. When he reaches it he looks at it for a moment before glancing up at Harry. "Well, we know it wasn't the Killing Curse." 

"Do we?" Harry asks, rolling his sleeves up and crossing the room to join him. 

"Look at her face," Scorpius murmurs, bending down to get a closer look and gesturing with the handle his wand. "Avada Kedavra doesn't leave marks." 

Harry looks down. The face is a familiar one, he knows all of the Aurors by sight if not by name, but it's difficult to work out if this is someone he knew well because the face is almost unrecognisable. It's covered in heavy scarring. Slashes criss-cross the cheeks and forehead in a seemingly random pattern. The wounds don't look like they've been inflicted with a knife, but they also don't look as though they were caused by Sectumsempra, or any other spell Harry knows. It looks more like the scars have been created by the gouging tendrils of some beast.

"What sort of spell causes injuries like that?" Harry asks, frowning down at the body. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I've never seen anything like it." He waves his wand and shadowy shapes flicker through the air in front of him. He seems to understand them because his frown deepens, and he dismisses the shapes one by one, calling others into being. "There wasn't any blood loss..." He mutters, half to himself. "These aren't cuts... They weren't created by a curse, as far as I can tell... The magical residue just isn't what it should be... And there's no trace of anything even slightly related to the curses that have been put on Albus." He dismisses the last of the shadowy shapes and looks up at Harry. "It's something different. Different and weird."

"Different and weird," Harry echoes with a smile. "Is that your professional medical opinion?" 

Scorpius lowers his wand and scowls. "What do you think it is then?" 

Harry shakes his head and goes to another of the bodies. He peers down at it and runs a hand through his hair, trying to think, trying to notice anything and everything that might be useful. This one has the same random lacerations to the face as all the others, but there are other wounds too, ones that Harry recognises easily as coming from a duel. 

"Do you think they could have been hurt somehow and _then_ murdered?" He asks, looking at Scorpius. "Maybe these wounds don't have anything to do with the cause of death." 

Scorpius shakes his head. "That doesn't make sense. Albus doesn't look like this, and he's alive. If these wounds aren't to do with what killed them then why wouldn't he have the same injuries?”

Harry shrugs. "Maybe they were captured and tortured before they killed. Albus escaped the house, he was never caught." 

Scorpius moves to a third body, and Harry follows him. This one is just as scarred as the rest. 

"No," Scorpius says softly. "I don't think that makes sense either... He told me his companions were dead when he got home. He can't have been in there long, can he? They must have died while he was in there. It must have been during the duel..." 

"But the wounds didn't come from a curse?" Harry asks, casting a few spells of his own over the body in front of him. They reveal nothing at all useful, just that there's no poison or tampering, that none of the big curses have been used here, and that there's no ongoing effects on the bodies now they're dead. 

"Not a curse," Scorpius says. "Not even a rare one." He summons one of his shadowy shapes again and beckons Harry across. "Look," he says, pointing up at it. "You see how it's moving? Like a wave?" 

The shadow ripples gently in the air, and Harry nods. 

"Cast a spell on me," Scorpius says, turning his wand on himself. "Disillusion me or something."  

Harry hesitates, then casts a weak Disillusionment Charm over Scorpius. As his outline becomes blurred and starts to fade toward invisibility, the shadow in the air between them spikes, the edges going jagged and haywire, obliterating the gentle ripples. 

"That's what happens when it detects spellwork," Scorpius explains, as Harry dismisses the Disillusionment and Scorpius fades back into opacity again. "It wouldn't have such an extreme reaction to residual magic, but you'd expect to detect something." He points his wand back toward the body in front of him, running it over their face, then down their torso. The shadows in the air return to their calm rippling, not an angle in sight. "There's nothing," Scorpius says, glancing up at the readings. "It can't have been spellwork." 

He dismisses the shadows and looks at Harry. "Did you see anything else at the house? Did anything happen? I suppose Albus would know, but..."

Harry shakes his head. He paces away, hands in his pockets, head bowed in thought. The bodies aren't helping him to figure this out. They're just adding more questions. And the fact that these are the bodies of his dead employees, people he sent into battle himself, isn't helping. He should have done better, protected them better, stopped them from being hurt. It's the one thing he hates most about himself, the body count that follows him, that weighs him down, gives him bad dreams at night and colours his every decision as a leader in the war against the darkness. 

He buries his face in his hands and takes a deep breath, struggling to remember. "There wasn't much to see from outside, just the spells from the duel..." He closes his eyes, thinking back. "All the spells were coming from a couple of the windows at the front... Albus and the others went round the side..." He opens his eyes and looks at Scorpius. "Smoke," he says. "There was smoke, too. Black smoke coming from one of the back windows. The one near the tree." 

Scorpius looks up where he's been waving his wand in slow circles over one of the bodies' hearts. "Smoke?" He asks, frowning. "Was the house on fire?" 

Harry shakes his head. "I'm not sure... it was certainly intact yesterday. The window the smoke was coming from was also the window we got the bodies out through." He starts pacing up and down the room, scratching his head. "There wasn't any fire damage that I can think of... The window pane was shattered but none of the wood was burned, there weren't smoke marks." 

"And Albus didn't have any burns or anything; he hadn’t inhaled any smoke..." Scorpius straightens up and scans the line of bodies, brow furrowed in thought. "It doesn't make sense..." He tucks a bit of hair behind his ear and stares around, like he's looking to the thin air for the answers. "Is there anything else? There must be something we're missing... What was the smoke like? If there's no fire damage it must have been magical, mustn't it?" 

Harry shrugs. "It was just... Smoke..." He thinks back, trying to remember any details. "Thick. Black. It came out of the back window... Maybe it was blown away on the wind, because I don't remember it being there when we left... But I didn't breathe any in or... Or anything." He shakes his head. "It was there one minute, and then it wasn't. Probably just magical." 

Scorpius sighs. "But it's smoke. Smoke didn't kill these people." He gives his wand a flick and another shadowy shape expands in the air in front of him. "No physical damage to the respiratory system. They didn't suffocate. There are no burns." 

"So forget the smoke," Harry says, striding across the room and gesturing to the bodies. "These marks, they have to have been made by something. Could there have been someone else in the house with them, beyond the people we duelled out the front? We have no idea what was in there. More dark wizards, some sort of creature, a trap... There are all sorts of things that are difficult to detect. Gases, potions, magical effects... It wouldn't have to be a spell that..." Harry trails off. "Scorpius?" 

Scorpius is staring at the body in front of him, a look of stunned realisation on his face. His expression has cleared, like someone's turned the light on in a pitch black room and he can suddenly see his surroundings. For the first time since entering the room he looks like he understands what's going on.

Harry walks across and peers over his shoulder, wondering if he's spotted something on one of the bodies. 

"What is it?"

Scorpius swallows looks at him. "Say it again." 

Harry shakes his head, feeling lost. "Say what again?" 

"There could have been someone else in the house, beyond the people you duelled... What you said after that, say it again." 

"A-about the gases?" Harry asks, uncertain of what's going on. "Gases, potions, magical effects. I remember in the Triwizard tournament there was this cloud that turned the world upside down when you-"

"No," Scorpius says, "the other part. The part before that. 'Some sort of creature'." He looks up at Harry, eyes wide. "I think I need to go to the library." 

Harry stares at him in pure confusion. "Why? Scorpius, what are you thinking?"

Scorpius shakes his head. "I don't know. I need to... To go to the library." He gestures over his shoulder. "I just need to- It's important. And then I need to talk to Albus." 

"What _about_?" Harry asks, frustrated. "We're supposed to be working together. This is my investigation, Scorpius. I'm the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. You can't keep me in the dark here, that's not how this works."

"I'm sorry," Scorpius says. "I just need to go and get some evidence, so you don’t think I’m going mad." And then he turns and disappears out of the mortuary. 

Harry runs after him, shoving the door open and rushing down the corridor. "Scorpius, come back! Talk to me properly." 

"I will," Scorpius shouts over his shoulder. "Later!" He rounds a corner, robes flying, and is gone. Harry follows him for a step or two, then stops. He gives a growl of annoyance, rakes his hands through his hair, and turns round in circles. 

He's completely lost and in the dark, with no idea what's going on. This is just like working with Hermione. Confusing and infuriating, having to simply trust in all that extensive knowledge of the world. He can only hope that Scorpius is as efficient as her at bringing back the right answers.

 

Scorpius sits cross-legged on the floor of his consultation room, poring over a very old, very fragile book. There's a stack of other books piled up beside him, and he's frantically searching through them for something he read years ago, something that might explain all of this. A copy of yesterday's Daily Prophet lies on his desk, open at the inside pages.

He flips feverishly through his book, scanning for another nugget of information to support the single snippet he’s already found. There has to be more here somewhere. He knows he’s read about it. He doesn't understand why there isn't more information about something that's so important to Wizarding history. But then again, he _can_ understand why, as frustrating as it is. 

He reaches the end of yet another fruitless chapter and sighs as he turns the page. There has to be something. Just a mention. Anything helpful. Anything he can use to confirm before Albus gets here and he can _really_ make sure he’s right...

He's about to start skim reading the next chapter when a knock on the door, makes him jump. He looks up and briefly wonders whether he should just stay quiet and pretend not to be here. This is too important to stop. He really needs to do this. But it could be Harry at the door. It could be one of his colleagues coming with thoughts about the case. Or it could be-

Scorpius swallows and looks down at the book in his hand. As important as this is, some things are more important. 

He marks his page and shuts the book. Then he sets it on top of the others and banishes the whole pile away to his desk with a sweep of his wand. He looks at the door and takes a breath, steadying himself. 

"Come in," he calls. 

The door opens a crack and Albus peers into the room. He looks pale, his hair is a mess, and he clings to the doorframe like he doesn’t quite dare move away from it, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. In his hand is a crumpled up piece of paper, and Scorpius recognises it as the note he’d sent Albus before he gone to bed the previous night, apologising for leaving and promising to meet him here. There are dark circles under Albus’s eyes, and Scorpius assumes he hasn't slept much. At least they're in the same boat there. 

When he locks eyes on Scorpius, Albus gives a tiny wave and nudges the door an inch further open. He seems to forget himself then, as his feet cross the threshold. All his nerves melt away and for a moment he becomes his normal bold self. A smile blossoms on his face like the sun coming out, and all his worries seem to disappear. 

"You're sitting on the floor," he says, grinning and tucking the crumpled note into his pocket. "What are you doing down there? You have a perfectly good desk chair. Didn't you ask for that one specially?" 

Scorpius looks up at his beloved spinny chair and nods. "Yes I did, and everyone keeps trying to steal it. I had to put Charms on it to stop anyone running off with it. But the floor helps me think." He spreads his hands. "So here I am. Thinking." 

"You're strange," Albus says with a laugh and a shake of his head. "You're strange, and I-" He stops mid-sentence and his smile fades away as if it were never there. He swallows and bows his head, suddenly looking an awful lot smaller and sadder. "I, um. I-I'm sorry." 

Scorpius looks up at him, at how small and sad and tired he looks, at that face that's crumpled and miserable now but looks so beautiful when it's lit up with a smile, at the man who he loves with all his heart, who's been his favourite companion for over half his life, and it slowly dawns on him that he doesn't need an apology. He knows that Albus is sorry, he can see that quite clearly, and he's already forgiven him. It's not Albus's fault that he's been cursed, he didn't ask for this. Scorpius doesn't need to hear him grovel when he's already in so much pain. 

"Albus..." He murmurs. "You don't have to-"

" _Yes_ ," Albus says, with all the authority and determination that he gets from both his mum and his dad. "I do." 

He lifts his head and looks at Scorpius as he steps into the room, face suddenly set with an expression that Scorpius has seen countless times before. It's the one that means he's ready to fight to the death in defence of himself, the people he loves, and right now his relationship with Scorpius. His jaw is tight, hands balled into fists, a blazing, ferocious look in his eyes. "I-I don't know all the things I said to you, but I know one of the things. And if the others were anything like that, then... Then they weren't things I believe."

He takes another step toward Scorpius. "I don't know why I said them, I don't know why the curse made me say them. I don't know where they came from, any of them, but it certainly wasn't my head. Because- because-" he shakes his head, struggling, apparently lost for words. 

Scorpius rises onto his knees. "I know," he says. "Albus, I don't-" 

"I said I regretted marrying you!" Albus bursts out finally, raking his fingers through his hair so it sticks up all over the place in a wild mess. "In my right mind I would never-" He walks to Scorpius and drops onto his knees in front of him so they're eye to eye. "Marrying you was the best thing I've ever done. You're my best friend. I _love_ you. And without you, I... I don't know what my life would be, but I know it wouldn't be nearly as good, so..." His voice drops and he bows his head. "So I'm sorry." 

He twists his hands together and stares down at the ground. "I don't expect you to forgive me, because what I said was awful, but I hope you know that I'm sorry. And that I'm grateful to have you every single day. You make me braver, and stronger, and happier, and... The thought that I hurt you... It's awful. You deserve the best, not what I did last night. A-and... Look." He draws his wand and waves it in the air, summoning a bouquet of flowers from nowhere. "These are for you. To say sorry." He holds them out to Scorpius and looks across at him, expression clouded with anxiety. 

Scorpius looks down at the flowers and shakes his head. "You didn't have to bring me flowers," he murmurs. 

"I wanted to," Albus insists.

Scorpius smiles at the renewed stubbornness on Albus's face as he admires the blooms of primroses, purple hyacinth, and red tulips – flowers of love and apology. "They're beautiful." He takes them from Albus and raises them to his nose, closing his eyes as he breathes in the scent. "They smell beautiful." 

"Mum helped me choose," Albus says softly. "I wanted to get the right ones. I just... I-I hope they're enough." 

Scorpius opens his eyes and looks at Albus over the top of the spray of petals. "Albus... You're enough on your own." He sets the flowers down on the floor next to him and takes Albus's hands, squeezing them tight. "The things you said..." He brushes his fingers over Albus's wedding ring and looks into his eyes. "You didn't mean it. I _know_ you didn't mean it. I knew that last night." 

"But-" 

Scorpius shakes his head and grips Albus’s hands even tighter. "When I left... I wasn't angry at you. It was just a lot to take in. I was trying to work out if you really felt all those things you said-" 

Albus opens his mouth to speak, but Scorpius doesn't give him time. 

"And I know that you didn't. Especially now. And none of it was your fault." He drops Albus's hands and cups his face instead. "I forgive you." 

Albus sniffs and lifts his chin to look at him. "I couldn't sleep," he whispers. "All night. I thought..." He swallows. "I thought you might never come back. I thought I'd ruined everything forever. I thought..." He breaks off, a tear dribbling down his cheek. He lifts his hand to brush it away, but Scorpius gets there first. He swipes the tear away with his thumb, then wraps his arms round Albus and pulls him into a tight hug. 

"You're my husband," he says, stroking his fingers through Albus's hair. "You're my best friend. Do you really think I could just abandon you? I love you too, Albus. The good bits, the bad bits, the cursed bits. It's all you, and I love _you_." He pulls back, holding Albus by the shoulders, and gives him a little shake as he looks him in the eye. "Okay?" 

Albus nods and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. "Okay." 

Scorpius nudges him. "Although, you know you shouldn't wipe your nose on your hand," he says, giving Albus a teasing smile. "It's a terrible habit." 

Albus gives a snuffly little laugh and almost smiles back. "Hypocrite," he mumbles.

Scorpius grins and summons a tissue from thin air. "I know. Here." He hands it to Albus, who takes it and blows his nose. 

"So, um," Albus says, once he's mopped himself up. "Why _were_ you sitting on the floor? Apart from so you could think?" 

Scorpius brightens up, glad to change the subject. "Your dad and I were reviewing the bodies earlier, and I had a thought. But I needed to do some research, so..." He gestures to the big pile of books. "I went to the library." 

Albus gives a slightly squelchy snort. "Of course you did." A little smile breaks across his face, and Scorpius beams at him. His heart lifts, just at the sight of that tiny twitch of the corners of Albus's mouth, because it's confirmation that things are going to be okay. 

"I went to the library," Scorpius continues, "because I needed to find evidence that I'm not going mad-"

"I presume," Albus says, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That you succeeded, since you're not _going_ mad, Scorpius. You've _been_ mad for a very long time. Probably from living with me." 

Scorpius swats at him. "Behave, this is serious." 

Albus grins. "I'm always serious." 

Scorpius gets up and turns his back on him, and on his bright, beautiful, distracting smile. It's making his heart sing with happiness, but right now he needs to concentrate, not sit and grin at his husband like an idiot. 

He picks the flowers up from the floor and brings them over to the desk, where he exchanges them for the only book he's found so far that's any use. He turns to Albus and gestures to it. "I've found out that everything I was basing my theory on is correct. I’d prefer more evidence but what I’ve got will do. So now I just need confirmation that the theory is in fact reality."

Albus shakes his head, looking confused. "Okay?”

Scorpius points his wand in Albus's direction, accidentally making a couple of rose petals flutter out of the end. "And for that, I need to help you get your memories back." 

Albus's smile fades into amazement, and his eyes go wide. "You've worked out how to do that?" 

Scorpius waggles the book in his direction. "Not... precisely." He drops the book to his side and strides across the room as Albus's face falls. "But I have an idea of where to start, and I know I can work it out. I... I have to work it out." He bends down in front of Albus and swallows. "I don't think it'll be easy... And you don't have to agree... But we need what's in your head, and undoing the curse is the only way we have of getting to it right now.”

Albus hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Of course you can do it. Whatever you need to do."

"There are risks," Scorpius says softly. "It might hurt, it might end up causing permanent damage. Memory loss, pain. If it goes really wrong you could die, although the chance of that is thankfully small. You should think about it before-" 

Albus takes hold of Scorpius's arms and shakes his head. "No. Just do it. It's important, and I trust you with my life." 

"This is a supposed to be a rational decision." 

"Love isn't rational," Albus says with a smile. 

Scorpius looks at the sparkling fire in Albus’s eyes and sighs. There’s no point arguing and trying to make Albus think about this more. He knows when his husband won’t be reasoned with. 

Albus pats him on the shoulder and looks around the room. "Where do you want me?" 

Scorpius gestures to the bed with his wand. "On there, please." 

Albus doesn't quite manage to restrain a smirk as he perches on the edge of the bed. "I'm all yours." 

"I thought I told you to behave?" Scorpius says. He sits on the bed next to Albus and looks at him. "You need to be comfortable. We'll be here a while, and you need to be able to sit still or it’ll make it harder, and it’ll make it more likely to hurt." 

Albus seems to consider making a sarcastic comment about that, but he must think better of it, because he silently kicks his shoes off and swings his legs up onto the bed, so he's sitting cross-legged, facing Scorpius. "Is this okay?" 

Scorpius kicks his own shoes off and mirrors him, nodding. "That's perfect." 

They sit facing each other on the bed, knees pressed together, Scorpius holding his wand loosely in his hand. Now they're here he feels considerably less confident. His heart is beating fast, there's an irritating tremor in his hand that's going to make this more difficult, and his mouth has gone dry. This is going to be difficult improvisatory magic under pressure, and the fact that Albus is sitting right there, at the moment whole and untarnished and relatively well, just makes it feel worse. The damage Scorpius could do... 

"Are you alright?" Albus asks. "Do you need me to-"

Scorpius shakes his head. He steels himself and grips his wand tight in his hand. He’s done this a thousand times. He’s been practicing it for years. He can do this. “No,” he says. “This is fine. I was just deciding where to start." He raises his wand and touches it to Albus's forehead. 

Albus draws in a breath and stares up at the wand. "Will I feel anything?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "Not if I do it well." 

Albus smiles, small and shaky. He takes another breath, then exhales, puffing his cheeks out, and looks at Scorpius. "I'm glad you're so good at your job." He bows his head a little. "Go on." 

Scorpius reaches out and touches Albus's chin, raising his head back up to get him in the perfect position. "Is this okay?" He murmurs. 

"Fine," Albus says. He's holding himself tense, his shoulders tight, chin jutting as he tries to stay in the exact place Scorpius has put him. Scorpius smooths a hand over one of his shoulders. 

"You can relax," he says. "You don't have to stay right there. Just don't wriggle, or I'll-" He can't bring himself to finish that sentence. 

"I won't," Albus promises, relaxing his shoulders just a bit.

Scorpius gives him a reassuring smile, then he gets to work. He murmurs the words of a simple spell to show him the shape of the curse he's working on. After that he closes his eyes, not wanting to be distracted by his proximity to his husband, and focuses all his senses on Albus's mind. 

Fixing a curse this way is a bit like untying a particularly difficult knot. It's slow, frustrating, fiddly work, but with enough patience and time it usually works out in the end. The magic in Albus's mind is coiled up at random, tight and twisted, and the threads of magic are so fine that they seem to blend into one. Even knowing where to start feels impossible when presented with an infinite ball of dark magic. 

Sometimes the best way to untangle a piece of string is to start loosening it from the middle, so that’s what Scorpius does. He chooses a starting point at random and begins picking away at the mass of darkness, mouthing an incantation as he works. 

Albus immediately gasps and flinches back. Scorpius kills the incantation, the words dying on his lips as he withdraws his wand and opens his eyes.

"Does that hurt?" He asks. 

Albus shakes his head. "No. But it's not very comfortable." 

“Sorry,” Scorpius murmurs. He twists his wand round in his hands.  “Are you still happy for me to do this? I’ll be careful but it’s not going to be nice either way.”

Albus licks his lips and resettles himself on the bed. “Go on. I’ll deal with it.”

This time when he sets the tip of his wand to Albus's head he keeps his eyes open. He frowns down at his feet as he works though, trying to think about something other than the fact that this is his husband he's treating. It's so much harder to work on someone who's not a stranger; it’s easy to be overcautious, and that doesn’t help anyone. He has to ignore the fact that this is Albus and stay intent on the magic. If he focuses everything on the curse this will feel like just another job, and that’s what this is. It’s what it has to be.

Albus is still tense and on edge. Scorpius can feel it when they're this close, the tight knots of his shoulders, the strain of his jaw where he's gritting his teeth, the way his hands are gripping his knees, fingertips white from how hard he's holding on. He's shaking, teeth chattering, and when Scorpius glances up he sees that Albus's eyes are squeezed tight shut. 

"You're shaking," Scorpius murmurs, fracturing the taut silence between them. 

Albus takes a breath and opens his eyes. "You're not," he replies, looking at Scorpius's left hand, which is perfectly steady on his wand. 

Scorpius smiles. "Lots of practice. But... if I could be shaking I probably would be." He looks Albus in the eye. "This is always a bit scary." He reaches out with his free hand and takes hold of one of Albus's, squeezing it, keeping it steady. "I know what I'm doing though. I've been doing this for years. We're going to be okay." 

Albus squeezes his hand in return. "I trust you," he whispers, then he closes his eyes again. 

Stillness and quiet descend between them. Scorpius slowly falls into the calm, rhythmic pattern that he's so used to. He forgets where he is and who he’s treating, and becomes absorbed in his incantations. 

It doesn't take him long to find his way in to the chaotic mess of magic. There's one strand that seems to loosen when he pulls on it, and as it comes free Albus doesn't react at all. No pain, not even a flicker. It's the perfect place to start. 

Flooded with determination, Scorpius settles down and starts picking at it. It takes patience and concentration and hard work. Sometimes a knot like this can take hours to get anywhere with, but he's willing to sit here as long as he needs to, and he only hopes Albus is too. 

"Talk to me," Scorpius says, after fifteen minutes of awkward work have passed. 

"Getting bored?" Albus asks, lips curling into a tiny smile as he opens one eye and looks at Scorpius. "I don't think I've ever known you to sit still for this long in one go." 

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "No, Albus. I'm not getting bored. I need to know I'm not affecting you. I need to know your memory is alright." 

"Oh," Albus says. "What do you want me to talk about?" 

"Tell me who you are," Scorpius says. "Tell me about yourself. I don't mind what." 

"Okay," Albus says. He clenches his hands and takes a breath. "I- My name is Albus Severus Potter. My dad's Harry Potter, and my mum is Ginny. I have a brother and a sister, and more cousins and aunts and uncles than I can count... I was born on the 23rd of March, 2006... I'm married to you." He grins at Scorpius and squeezes his hand, and Scorpius can't help but smile back, the way he does whenever the world reminds him that Albus is his husband, even after all these years. 

"I'm an Auror," Albus continues, "that's sort of what got me into this mess. We live together at Serpentine Mews in London. You like feeding the parakeets in the park, and you always leave your shoes at the bottom of the stairs so I nearly break my neck every morning." 

"I didn't tell you to be mean," Scorpius says. 

Albus grins and pokes him in the knee. "Just the truth... Um, what else do you want me to remember?" 

"That's fine," Scorpius says. He smiles and glances up. They're very close together like this, and Albus is staring at him, eyes burning through the shadowy space between them. He still looks a little tense and nervous, but talking seems to have relaxed him. He's smiling now, and his shoulders don't look like they're knotted nearly so tightly. 

"It’s a good start," Scorpius says. "Keep going if you want. Talk about anything. Ramble at me. You can repay me for all the times I've talked incessantly at you for hours."

Albus smiles. "Now that's a dangerous invitation." 

"I know." 

"Alright then." Albus frowns and tips his head forward an inch. Scorpius touches his chin to stop him moving any further, and Albus murmurs an apology. He stays silent for a moment after that, then he twists his hands together in his lap. 

"I remember... I remember our wedding day." He smiles and brushes his fingers over his wedding ring. "I remember how you and your dad took weeks choosing your robes. I remember thinking that if you'd taken any longer you'd either have had to walk down the aisle naked, or we'd have to reschedule everything because you'd have nothing to wear." His smile widens to a grin. "Do you remember how everyone thought our cake was the best wedding cake they'd ever eaten?" 

"They were right," Scorpius says, shuffling his shoulders, which are starting to ache from sitting still for so long. 

"It had half of Honeydukes piled on top of it. I'm sure we caused a world shortage of Jelly Slugs." 

Scorpius sighs happily. "Exactly. It was perfect." 

"If you'd eaten any more of it you would have been sick," Albus teases, messing with Scorpius's fingers.

Scorpius shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't. That would have been a waste of excellent cake." He runs his fingers over the silver band of Albus's wedding ring and tries to think about magic rather than cake. It's not easy. "Talk about something else," he says. "You're making my job difficult." 

Albus laughs, then winces and gives a soft hiss as Scorpius's wand slips a millimetre or two on his forehead, and Scorpius loses control of his magic for the briefest of moments. 

"Sorry," they both murmur at the same time, and Albus stops laughing. From the set of his face, Scorpius can tells he's trying to concentrate on keeping his body still. 

"I, um..." Albus continues after a moment of silence. "I remember you dancing with my mum. And with my dad. I sat and watched you. You all looked so happy. And I remember when you were sitting on the floor at the reception, playing with Teddy's kids. I don't know if I ever told you, but I couldn't help but imagine you playing with our kids like that one day. You've always been really good with children." 

Scorpius inhales sharply and almost loses control again, but he forces his hand to remain steady, and when he's refocused he meets Albus's eyes. He can hear Albus's voice in his head, telling him he's indecisive, that maybe they just shouldn't have kids, and he knows that while this may not be the best time to justify himself, he has to take the opportunity while it's here. 

"Yesterday you said... You said you thought I didn't, you know, want kids..." He swallows. "But I do. I hope you know that. A lot. Because I think you'd make a great dad, and I think I'd like to have a go at being a parent even if I'm not very good. So I-I hope you don't really think that I... That I don't. It's just... It's important. I want to get it right, for it to be the right thing to do, for us and for them. I don't want us to rush." 

"That's okay," Albus murmurs. He lets go of Scorpius's hand and rubs his palm across his chest. "I understand. Maybe... Maybe it's a conversation for another time. When you're not trying to concentrate." 

"Maybe," Scorpius agrees. "I just wanted you to know that." He points his free hand at Albus's chest. "Are you hurting?" 

"Not much," Albus says, withdrawing his hand far too quickly. 

Scorpius considers pursuing the point, but Albus's expression has gone hard, and Scorpius decides it's probably easier not to argue – they can worry about Albus's heart once his head is sorted out – so instead they lapse into a lengthy silence. 

Scorpius uses the time to close his eyes and focus all his energy on the curse. The knots are coming looser, and he's begun to chase out some of the darkness. It's becoming a lot easier to discern the shape of the spell, and find ways to disperse it. His head is beginning to ache from the effort of coordinating so much detailed magic for so long, his left hand and arm have gone numb and tingly, and exhaustion is starting to settle into his body, but he's nearly there. He has to keep going, just for a little while longer.

There's one particularly tight knot that he's working on. He lets the incantations flow through his tired brain, not thinking too much about them, just letting them happen. Often instinct is the best way forward in situations like these. 

The strands of magic are woven tightly together, barely indistinguishable, but the second he works out where to start, they seem to fall loose very quickly. The twisted loop releases, and he changes spell as fast as he can, to chase the dark, clinging threads from Albus's mind. 

As he does, Albus's knee gives an involuntary twitch, and he draws a sharp breath. "I remembered something," he says. 

"Yes?" Scorpius prompts, heart beating faster. 

"I remembered something," Albus repeats. "There was smoke at the house... In the house, when we went upstairs... But it wasn't..." He gives a soft hiss of pain, and Scorpius opens his eyes. 

"Are you alright?"

"Keep going," Albus says. His eyes are squeezed tight shut, and his face is taut with determination. 

Scorpius takes hold of his hand again. "Tell me if you need me to-"

"Go on," Albus says through gritted teeth. 

Scorpius obeys. He throws the last of his energy into unpicking the final few strands of the curse. They're more slippery and difficult than any of the others, like the magic knows he's close to breaking it down and is making a valiant attempt to stop him. The more Scorpius works at the knots; the more desperate his incantation becomes, the tighter they seem to wind themselves. 

"Come on," he mutters. "Nearly there." 

He isn't being nearly as gentle as he was before. This is too much of a struggle to be delicate. Albus's grip tightens on his hand, fingernails digging into his palm. His face is screwed up in discomfort, and Scorpius knows that he's hurting him, but he's so nearly there, and he has to finish this. 

"It's okay," Scorpius says. "I've nearly-" 

He finds it. The one loose thread he needed. 

The whole curse unravels in an instant, and Scorpius sits up straighter on the bed, saying aloud the words that will drive the last shadowy fragments of darkness away. He can feel light and freedom and memory flooding back into Albus's mind, and as it does, Albus gasps and sags forward. 

Scorpius sways with exhaustion himself, but he manages to drop his wand and wrap both arms round Albus, holding him up. "Okay," he says, brushing his shaking fingers through Albus's hair. "I've got you. It's all done now." 

Albus clutches at his head as he slumps against Scorpius, too weak to hold himself up any more. "I- I can remember-" He gives a small whimper of pain and buries his face in Scorpius's chest, fingers clutching at Scorpius's shirt. "I can remember everything." 

Shaking with exhaustion and relief, Scorpius lowers Albus onto the bed, then curls up beside him because he's too dizzy and tired to stay upright himself either. He runs a hand down Albus's arm. "I can cast a spell to stop it hurting," he murmurs. 

Albus shakes his head, eyes closed. His hands finds Scorpius's wrist, and he clings on tight. "No, I don't need- There's just so much... So much I'd forgotten." He opens his eyes and looks at Scorpius. "I can see the house, and-" His breathing is ragged, maybe with pain, maybe because he's so overwhelmed by the memories. "And I remember what was inside it. The duel. The people. I-I know those people... Aloysius Rookwood... Dorothea Avery... Octavian Mulciber... Evelyn Rowle. And there was-" He frowns and looks at Scorpius. "I don't understand why, but there was a girl there." 

Scorpius exhales and closes his eyes. 

He knew it. He knew Albus was going to say that. He'd hoped against hope that he was wrong, that his ridiculous theory would be disproven. But he isn't, because of course he isn't. It all makes far too much sense. 

"An eight year old girl?" he asks, although it shouldn't be a question. He already knows he's right. 

"Yes," Albus says, sounding surprised. "How did you know that?

Scorpius opens his eyes, heart sinking like a stone. "I know what killed your colleagues. I don't know why, or how, but I know what. And I think we need to talk to your dad." 

"What have you worked out?" Albus asks, pushing himself up on one of his elbows, body shaking with the effort. "Why does the girl matter?" 

Scorpius sits up and crosses his legs. He stares down at the surface of the bed and fiddles with his wedding ring. "There was a girl who was kidnapped. Five years ago." He glances at Albus. "It's been in the paper, remember? Her parents have been looking for her." 

"And?" Albus asks, shaking his head. 

"It's her," Scorpius says. "The girl in the house." 

Albus looks at him like he's gone mad. "Okay?" 

Scorpius takes a breath. "Her parents are a Muggle, and a Muggleborn Witch. The article said so. They're the kind of people the Death Eaters would have thought of as scum, so she's perfect. Completely worthless. They kidnapped her, and I-I think they've turned her into a weapon. They're going to use her to-" He breaks off and slowly shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "I have no idea what. But I'm sure we'll find out sooner than we'd like." 

Albus's forehead creases in a perplexed frown. "A weapon? How can a child be a-“ He shakes his head. “Scorpius, what are you talking about?" 

"You saw smoke in the house," Scorpius says, and it's mostly a statement, because he's almost completely sure of himself.

Albus shrugs. "There was a bit of smoke, but it wasn't like anything was on fire. It just sort of clung to the ceiling." 

Scorpius leans forward. "And the bodies. When I looked at them they had lacerations on their faces. The victims seemed otherwise unharmed, it was just the cuts. They weren’t physical damage, but they weren't made by magic. They were made by the girl!" 

"I think all those spells have addled your brain," Albus says with a laugh, shaking his head and sitting back. “This is ridiculous. Kids don’t kill people. Not like this anyway. This is what Death Eaters do, not little girls. And I still don’t understand how a child can be a weapon.”

Scorpius buries his face in his hands, trying to work out how to explain this, because clearly he’s doing a terrible job right now. “Imagine... Imagine repressing your magic,” he says, lifting his head to look at Albus. “Imagine if you’d been told growing up that you couldn’t use it, that it was the worst thing in the world. Imagine being... being beaten for using it, called terrible things. Imagine becoming terrified of your magic, of the consequences of using it. But imagine being a child and not being able to control it.”

Albus swallows and looks down at his hands. “It... it sounds like hell,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to rub at his chest, curling in on himself.

Scorpius nods. “Now imagine if that went on for years and years, your magic getting more and more volatile, but you couldn’t use it because it’ll make the people who claim to love you angry. Imagine hating them and hating yourself, and... and being torn in two by this essential bit of you that you can’t get rid of.” 

Albus has gone very pale. His fingers are clenched tight enough together to have gone white. He doesn’t seem to know what to say anymore, in fact he looks a bit sick, so Scorpius carries on, not wanting to stop, because once he does he knows he won’t be able to start again. 

He draws in a ragged breath, fighting down the anger and upset that he hasn’t had time to acknowledge before now. “You lash out,” he murmurs. “Maybe by accident, maybe because you’re so angry at the world. And all that magic inside you that you’ve been locking away, it becomes this- this thing. This creature. Like a parasite that makes you go dark and starts to consume you. You don’t even know it’s there, but it is, living inside you, feeding on your magic, your anger, your pain. And eventually... eventually it starts to kill when you lash out. It gets bigger and bigger, until it’s like a bomb, ready to explode at the first spark. And at some point it gets so big and unstable that when you lash out it tears you, and everyone around you, apart.” His voice breaks and he lets his hands drop. He bites the inside of his lip, blinks several times, and looks up. “If you did that to a person, to a little girl, you could turn them into a weapon. It would be a depraved, sick thing to do but you could do it.”

“So is that what you think...” Albus breathes, trailing off. “This is real?”

Scorpius nods and gets to his feet. His legs are shaky, barely supporting him as he stumbles across to the desk and picks up the old, crumbling book. He brushes his fingers over the cover, then glances back towards Albus. “Have you ever heard of an Obscurus?”


	5. A Problem Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Aurors continue their investigation, the curse starts to get the better of Albus, and with some encouragement he decides that it's time to talk to Scorpius about everything.

Harry stands in the middle of Albus’s hospital room and stares down at the newspaper in his hands. Several assorted Aurors and Healers stand around the edge, watching him. Albus sits cross-legged on the bed, and Scorpius stands right in front of Harry, expression serious, twisting his hands together as he waits for approval.

"I don't... understand," Harry says finally. He glances up from the paper and looks at Scorpius. “Are you telling me that a little girl has been killing my best Aurors?”

Scorpius shakes his head. “Not the girl. The Obscurus. The thing inside her that’s feeding on her magic.”

“Right,” Harry says, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s a child. They’re using a child to...” He gestures to the article. 

Scorpius doesn’t say anything. This is one of those times where silence can speak for itself. 

“I knew that Grindewald tried to use-“ Harry murmurs. “But I didn’t know exactly what they were, or... I didn’t realise...” He glances up at Scorpius. “They can really kill people like this? Cause this sort of damage?”

“Their destructive potential is enormous,” Scorpius says. “Greater than any one spell, because they don’t cast spells. They use their entire magical force in one go.”

Harry shakes his head and scans the article again. “If this is true, why did we not all recognise the signs? We should have known about something so dangerous.”

“They’re rare,” Scorpius says. “And getting rarer. I think they’re almost extinct, thankfully.” He looks down at his hands and swallows. “And... I imagine they’re not common knowledge because they’re usually hidden. They emerge in the sort of kids who no one ever sees or hears about. Ones who are abused, neglected; the ones who fall through the net. Only the most twisted, evil people have ever thought about using them for their own ends. The other Obscurials have mostly been created and died without anyone really knowing they existed.”

“Whenever you think the Dark Arts can’t sink any lower,” Harry breathes, expression sombre. 

Scorpius nods in silence and turns away. He sits on the edge of Albus’s bed and a moment later he feels Albus’s fingers brush down his arm. He glances round to see Albus reaching out to him, and he reaches back to catch hold of Albus’s hand and hold onto it for a second. Albus gives a tiny, thin smile and squeezes his hand, then he lets go and curls in on himself, pressing his hands to his chest. Scorpius watches him, wanting to ask if he’s okay, but he knows that Albus won’t give him a straight answer in front of all these people.

Finally Harry breaks the silence.

“We have to do something about this,” he says. “We need to confirm that the Death Eaters definitely have the girl, we need to know where they are, and we need to get her away from them. We know they’re not still at that old house, and I’d bet every Galleon in Gringotts that they won’t go back there, but they have to be somewhere.” 

He looks around at the assembled crowd, steely with determination. He rubs his hands together as he comes up with the plan, and Scorpius can see the spark in his eyes, the same one that Albus gets when he’s piecing things together. There’s nothing that will stop him now. They’re going to see this through and they’re going to save the girl. Harry won’t rest until they’ve done it. 

“Annabel,” Harry says, pointing to her. “I need you to organise a surveillance team. Find where they’ve gone, keep an eye on them, track their every movement and report back. As soon as we have a solid idea of what’s going in we can move in.”

Annabel gives a sharp nod and turns away from Harry, glancing at a couple of people behind her and beckoning them closer to start whispering a strategy.

“Rhys,” Harry says. “I need you to do some research. I know, I’m sorry, I hate it too, but we need to-“

“Wait.”

Harry stops dead, glancing around. Everyone else looks round too, including Scorpius. They all stare at Albus, who’s uncurled himself and is staring back, a hint of defiance shining in his eyes. 

”Don’t we need to know what they’re planning?” He asks, looking around. “There’s no point fighting them now. That would be stupid.”

Harry gives him a look for complete incredulity. “Albus, there’s a child in danger. Of course we have to fight.”

Albus shakes his head. “I disagree.”

Scorpius has no idea where Albus is going with this, but he recognises the slight jut of Albus’s jaw, his lifted chin. He’s not going down without a fight. And when Albus is fighting, he’s not going to lose. Scorpius gives it five minutes before everyone is on his side. 

“We could save the girl,” Albus says, “and that would be admirable, but it still only helps one person.” He gets to his feet, a tiny, charismatic figure who blazes with passion and determination. Sometimes, just like right now, Scorpius sees how far he’s come from the scared little boy who was bullied and anxious at school. He’s a leader now, strong and confident, and he doesn’t show a flicker of anxiety as he faces down a room of high-powered Aurors and Healers. 

“If we go in with the mindset of freeing her, then the Death Eaters could escape. They could just find another kid and try again. We have to focus our priorities.” His gaze sweeps the room. “Think about it, if this girl is meant to be a weapon then they must have a plan for how they’re going to use her. They’re Death Eaters. Losing her isn’t going to stop them. They’ve killed several of us already; they’ve cursed me so I’d forget she existed. They’ve been working on this for years if they really are using the girl we think they are. This is huge for them. If we’re going to really make a difference then we need to know their plan and we need to take them in. That should be the priority, not just saving the girl.” He looks directly at Harry. “Don’t you agree?”

There’s a long silence in the room. Everyone watches Harry, apart from Scorpius, who can’t stop staring at Albus’s tight, stubborn form. There’s something about it that makes Scorpius feel uneasy, but he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. Albus sometimes gets tense like this, usually when he’s unhappy or angry, but he doesn’t seem to be either of those things right now. That’s what makes it so odd. Scorpius watches as Albus lifts his hand to his chest and presses the heel of it over his heart, and again he wants to ask Albus if everything’s okay, he wants to clear the room and examine Albus properly, but Albus would never agree to that, so all he can do is sit here in silent frustration and speculate. 

“He’s got a fair point,” Annabel says, as she leans against the wall and eyes Albus. “It would be nice to know what they’re up to. And having the girl around definitely complicates matters. If we’re trying not to hurt her we can’t duel as easily. This needs thought.”

Harry nods. “I agree too. As much as I’d like to make the girl our top priority, we have to make sure we stop whatever’s going on. That will still save her, and it’ll hopefully save a lot of other people too.” He glances at Scorpius. “Will the girl come to any harm if we don’t take immediate action?”

Albus turns to look at Scorpius along with everyone else. His face is pale and there are purplish smudges under his eyes. He looks tired, and his eyes have gone dark, the sort of dark they go when he’s arguing with someone. He looks the way he did last night when he and Scorpius were fighting: on edge, shadowy, a little bit dangerous. For a moment it throws Scorpius off, and he stares blankly at Harry for a moment before remembering what the question was. 

“Oh,” he says, “I-I’m actually not sure.” He takes a deep breath and makes himself think about his research. “Historically, most Obscurials die because they lose control. This girl might only have limited time left, but if these Death Eaters want to use her for something then maybe they’ll protect her for now. She might even be safer without our intervention. And to be honest... I’m not even sure if we can help her once we’ve rescued her. There are other teams who might do better, but there’s no guarantee...” He forces himself to meet Harry’s eyes directly. “So much damage has been done already. A couple of days to do this safely might not be such an awful idea, and it’ll give us,” he gestures to his Healers, “time to talk to our colleagues and work out how to heal her.”

“Alright then,” Harry says, nodding and clapping his hands together. “Then we wait. But I want to see progress. If we don’t get any information about a plan soon then saving the girl becomes our priority. Understood?”

“Understood,” they all chorus, apart from Albus who just nods and retreats to the bed rubbing his chest, and Scorpius who watches him in uneasy silence. 

 

Albus runs through the deserted park, sending a flurry of pigeons cooing and fluttering into the air. It's bitterly cold this early on a winter morning, but he warms up fast as he jogs over the bridge and sets off round the edge of the lake. 

It's always peaceful out here in the mornings, before the tourists arrive. He likes pounding down the usually crowded paths, past the cafe and lido that heave with people in the summer, under the bare trees where pigeons and parakeets roost together, with just a couple of miserable swans for company. 

The frigid air stings his cheeks and throat, making it harder to breathe, and when he exhales, the hot puffs mist in the air in front of him. He's been going for half an hour now, and he's beginning to hurt from how hard he's running. Sometimes it's good to push himself, and today, when his chest is already aching from the curse, he wants to wash away the foreign, unwelcome discomfort with a pain that he's in command of. 

He's buried so deep in the effort of running, hearing just his feet and his heart and his breath, that he doesn't notice someone has joined him until they catch up and start keeping pace beside him. Normally there are a handful of other runners around, some he might even say good morning to, but no one who would run with him. Surprised, he glances sideways and sees his dad, hair a mess, glasses askew, already looking puffed as he tries to keep pace. He’s wearing a lurid orange Chudley Canons t-shirt and a pair of running shorts so ridiculous that Albus can hardly believe Ginny let him leave the house in them. 

Albus grins to himself and pushes on harder, almost breaking into a sprint as he makes a game of trying to lose his dad. Harry, sensing the challenge, steps up the pace next to him. They make it side-by-side up towards the big memorial fountain that trickles in gentle streams down tracks to the side of the path, but by the time they reach the road, Harry has fallen several metres behind and is clearly starting to suffer. 

Albus takes pity on him and stops on the bridge, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. "Morning, Dad," he says cheerfully, as Harry comes toiling up to him. 

"You didn't... have to run away from me," Harry gasps, grinding to a halt and leaning against the wall for support. 

Albus smirks and straightens up. "I guess I'm just fitter than you these days." 

Harry shakes his head. "Not fitter. Younger. There's a difference." 

Albus pats him on the shoulder. "I'm sure there is." He runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and frowns at his dad. "What are you doing here anyway? You have an entire village to run round, why do you need to invade my park? Or did Mum tell you you couldn't come within a hundred mile radius of her in that outfit?" He grins, and Harry shoots him an offended look. 

"What's wrong with my outfit?" He asks. 

"Don't let James see you in those shorts," Albus advises. "Or Ron. Or Draco. _Especially_ Draco." 

Harry glances down at himself and sighs. "Noted." He pushes off the wall and straightens up. "Anyway, I didn't come here to be mocked by my son, as pleasant as it is. I actually wanted to talk to you." 

Albus sighs. “What about?” He already knows the answer, and for some reason, out of the blue, he feels irritated about it. His dad is here to check up on him, and talk about the mission, but he doesn’t need checking up on and he doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s fine. His chest just aches a bit – okay, maybe more than a bit – and there’s a throbbing pain like a migraine building inside his head, but maybe he’s just dehydrated or something. 

He bows his head and presses the heel of his hand hard against his chest, trying to get enough pressure to make the pain ebb. But it doesn’t. It builds along with a tide of inexplicable anger that wells up inside him, an anger for which there’s no reason in the world that he can find. It’s an uncontrollable wave, sweeping away all his sense of self, the way it has done too many times in the last couple of days. 

He tries to draw in deep breaths and fight back the nausea that comes from the pain, and the urge to punch something that comes with the anger. He doesn’t even really know or care where he is or what he’s doing anymore. He would attack anyone or anything in front of him, and the part of him that’s still him – the tiny inner part that’s free of the curse – is terrified by that. 

“Albus.” His dad’s voice seems to come from a very long way away, and Albus clenches his fists hard to keep himself from lashing out, because he doesn’t want to hurt the person attached to that voice. He really really doesn’t.

“Are you okay?” A hand clamps onto Albus’s shoulder, and Albus jerks his head up, wanting to tell him to get off, but when he meets his dad’s eyes the sharp emerald shards are so close and familiar, all-consuming and overwhelming, that they snap him back to himself, and collapses to his knees on the freezing ground, gulping in desperate breaths of air. 

“Dad,” he gasps, reaching up to grip his dad’s arm as he struggles to try and get back to his feet. 

“Okay,” Harry says, catching his hand and trying to support him. “You’re not okay.”

Albus summons all his courage and manages the tiniest shake of his head. 

Harry squeezes his shoulders and crouches down beside him. “Is it the curse?” he asks. “Do you want me to call Scorpius? Or I can Apparate you home. In fact I think we should-“

“No!” Albus shakes his head and nudges his dad’s arm off him. It’s even more difficult to breathe when his dad is holding onto him like that. “No, I’m-“ He takes a long, steadying breath, and as icy morning air floods his lungs the pain begins to subside a little. “I’m okay. The fresh air is good.” He manages to raise his head, and he tips backwards to sit on the ground. The anger has gone as quickly as it had come, and all the darkness inside him is replaced by bright morning sunshine and the open, green space of the park. “I-I feel better already.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, forehead creased with concern.

Albus nods. “I promise. I’m not lying. It comes and goes so fast.” He pushes off the ground, and his legs feel like jelly and his head spins, but he’s determined to stay upright and his determination always makes things happen. “Can we just walk a bit?” He asks. “You wanted to talk to me anyway. You talk. I’ll just... I’ll listen.”

He gives his dad a hopeful smile, and Harry doesn’t smile back but he does start walking beside Albus as they cross the road and move off along the tree-lined walkways that lead further into the park.

Frost sparkles on the ground, and the paths are a bit slippery underfoot. Albus blows on his hands to keep them warm, and his breath swirls in the air in front of him. He's glad he came dressed for this weather, proper jogging bottoms, a long sleeved top, even a bobble hat stuck in his pocket just in case. His dad must be about to drop dead from the cold. It's freezing. 

"You and Scorpius seem okay. You know, after the other night," Harry says, just when Albus is beginning to wonder if maybe his mouth has frozen shut. 

Albus glances at him and nods. "I'm lucky. Scorpius doesn't really hold grudges. If he did I would have been kicked out years ago." 

Harry smiles. "He has his moments too though." 

"If I come into work injured one day it won't be from a raid. It'll be because I fell over his stupid shoes in the dark." 

Harry's smile widens into a grin. "He's still doing that then." 

Albus sighs. "Always." He tucks his hands into his pockets to protect them from the chilly wind that's picked up and is swirling around them. "I-I still can't believe I don't even remember what I said..." He trails off, letting the wind blow his words away. He feels as cold inside as the weather is outside. Cold and empty and sad. "I know that he's forgiven me, but-" He looks at his dad. "It doesn't make it better." 

"Albus," Harry says, voice soft and concerned. "Curses make good people do and say things they don't mean. I know you know that. This isn't your fault." 

"I know," Albus says, clenching his fists in his pockets. "But I hate it." He scuffs the toe of his running shoes on the ground. "Most of the time I feel fine, but then sometimes, like just now, like the other night... It's like this awful darkness comes over me and I just feel angry. It makes me want to hurt people, or- I don't even know. It's like a compulsion to do something, or maybe not do something, and I can’t figure it out. I can't stop it either. It just controls me." He runs his hands through his hair and gives a soft growl of frustration. "I'm supposed to be an Auror. I'm supposed to know how control myself, but I _can't_. And people – mainly Scorpius – keep getting hurt." 

Harry eyes him. "Does Scorpius know about this?" 

Albus shakes his head. "I hoped it would go away after we got rid of the curse in my head. I hoped it would fade, but..." He swallows and glances at his dad. "Yesterday it felt like it was worse. In that meeting we had, I know I said things, but I can’t remember what. I don’t know if it was good or bad, I don’t even know if anyone noticed, but I have no idea what happened. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You were feeling sick during the meeting?” Harry asks, and Albus can hear a hint of surprise in his voice. “You looked pale but I thought you were just tired.”

Albus shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry I...” He looks down at his feet. “I didn’t say anything awful, did I?”

Harry shrugs. “Not that I noticed. You had some good suggestions actually. I was impressed.”

“Well that’s something at least,” Albus mutters.

"It must be hard, Scorpius being your husband as well as your Healer," Harry says, as they divert off the path and across to the towering monument that’s deserted today apart from a couple of bedraggled pigeons. They sit side by side on the icy steps and Albus pulls a bottle of water from the bottomless depths of his jacket pocket. 

Harry skims his feet back and forth on a frozen puddle and looks down at his hands, breath misting. “Do you ever feel like you want to protect him from whatever pain you’re in? Because I feel like that with your mother all the time.”

“Sometimes,” Albus murmurs, fiddling with the cap on his bottle.

“I always feel like she’d be safer not knowing things,” Harry says, rubbing his hands together to try and warm them up. “But I don’t think she is. And I don’t think Scorpius is either. They know when something’s up, you must have noticed that. And that’s why they’re there, that’s why we married them, so they can help us. Right?”

Albus nods and scuffs his toe on the ground. “Right.”

“You should talk to him,” Harry says, “Scorpius. There’s no point hiding any of this. It’s his job to make you better. I know it’s hard but you should tell him about everything. He can help. He’s probably the only person who can, and you’re lucky to have him, so use him.” Harry gives Albus a gentle nudge. “What’s my golden rule?”

“Constant vigilance?” Albus says, knowing full well that that’s not the rule Harry’s talking about here. Sometimes it’s fun to mock how many golden rules his dad has though. 

Harry gives him another nudge. “The _other_ golden rule.”

“Communicate,” Albus supplies. “And I know. I know I should...” He sighs and twists his hands together in his lap. “Especially... especially when this thing, this curse makes me feel unpredictable.” He glances at his dad. “I don’t know if I trust myself. Not after what happened the other night.”

"Are you scared it'll happen again?" Harry asks. 

Albus's gazed down at his hands. "A bit," he admits. "I-I don't want to say anything I'll regret. I don't know what'll happen if he tries to help. I just don't _know_..." He moves his feet up the steps so he can hug his knees to his chest. "My marriage is going to be ruined by some stupid curse and I hate it." 

"That," says Harry, pointing at him. "Is not true. Neither of you will let that happen." 

"What if we don't have a choice?" Albus mutters. 

"There's always a choice. Even in situations like this. And right now your choice is to ask for help or try and do this alone." 

Albus nods and slumps his shoulders. "I know." 

Harry reaches across and rubs his back. "We'll fix it, Albus. We're already fixing it. Annabel's due back with an update in a couple of hours, we're checking out the recent activity of all the Death Eaters you named, and we've been asking the Special Investigative Squad for all their notes on the case surrounding the girl. We're well on our way to getting all of this sorted out."

"The sooner the better," Albus says softly. "Scorpius and I still haven't had our day off, and we want to talk about-" He shakes his head and rubs his hand against his chest as a faint gnawing ache starts up again. "Scorpius has been making this list. Pros and cons of us, you know, having kids. We were going to talk about it when you called that day." 

Harry looks at him. "I didn't know that," he says, tone soft, apologetic. "Sometimes this job gets in the way of things, important things... I'm sorry, Albus." 

Albus shakes his head and clenches his fingers into a fist, pressing it hard over his heart. "It's okay. I like this job. It's a good thing to do. Just sometimes..." 

Harry nods. 

There's silence for a moment, and Albus realises his dad is starting to shiver. It's freezing cold, and he's still just wearing shorts and a t-shirt. They should stop talking and get moving again. But as he opens his mouth to suggest that they go, Harry gets there first. 

"For what it’s worth,” he says, glancing at Albus, “I think you'd make an excellent dad. Scorpius too. And you want kids, don't you? I heard you and Ginny talking about it that day." 

“I did,” Albus sighs, and it takes him a second to hear how he’s said it – reluctant, in the past tense – and he has no idea why he said it that way because it’s still true. Of course it’s still true, and there’s no reluctance at all from his end. He takes a deep breath and shakes himself. "I _do_. I agree. Scorpius would be brilliant. He's kind, and patient. He's a good teacher too."

Harry nods. "He is. Any child would be lucky to have you two." 

"We'd do our best," Albus murmurs. "I think- I think we just need chance to talk it through. It's hard to get time, and we want to talk about it properly. It’s not something to rush into.”

"You can have that day back," Harry says softly, still with that same apologetic tone. "Whenever you like once this is over. You both deserve it." 

"Thanks," Albus says. He brushes his fingers through his hair, trying to chase away the niggling ache in his head, but of course it doesn't help. To distract himself he nudges his dad on the arm. "You've got goosebumps, Dad. That's what happens when you wear hideous shorts on a freezing cold morning in November."

Harry shivers and runs his hands over his legs. "It is a bit chilly. Do you mind if we get running again?" 

Albus grins. "Do you mind being left behind again?" 

Harry rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet. He offers Albus a hand up, which Albus takes before realising that his dad's fingers are like icicles. 

"Dad!" He yelps, pulling his hand back and blowing on it as he hops to his feet. 

Harry laughs and ruffles his hair. "Come on. Let's go home before we catch hypothermia. Do you think I can join you for breakfast?" 

Albus gives him a mischievous smile. "Only if you cook it." He takes off running, not even pausing as he calls back to Harry over his shoulder. "Keep up, old man!" 

 

That night, Albus sits cross-legged on the kitchen floor, back against the crockery cupboard, with Scorpius's owl, Ariana, perched on the floor beside him. He smooths his fingers slowly over her feathers, enjoying the comfort of the softness and warmth. She gives a gentle hoot, but sits perfectly still. Just like Scorpius, she's always loved having Albus anywhere near her. 

Scorpius is standing in front of the stove, stirring some sort of sauce with his wand and humming to himself. He seems to be in a pretty good mood this evening. Although Albus really hopes it lasts, it’s that, his cheerfulness and exuberant energy, that's making Albus hesitant to say anything. He doesn't want to ruin Scorpius's happiness. 

"Albus," Scorpius says, “please can you pass me that chopping board over there?" He gestures vaguely over his shoulder at it. 

Albus draws his wand from his pocket and tries to cast a Locomotor Charm on it, to make go racing across the work surfaces towards Scorpius. It's one of the spells he's always found easiest, but today he must be worrying too much, because halfway across the kitchen it stalls and falls onto the worktop with a clatter. Scorpius jumps at the sound and spins round. 

"Sorry," Albus says. He sighs and levitates the chopping board instead. "Dodgy spell. I dropped it." 

Scorpius plucks the board out of the air and surveys Albus, frowning. "What's bothering you?" 

Albus shakes his head. "Nothing important. Do you need help with those onions?" 

Scorpius puts the knife down on the chopping board and nods, looking immensely relieved. "You're my hero, you know that? But don't change the subject. I know something's up. You have this look about you. And I don't think you've fucked up a Locomotor Charm in fifteen years." 

Albus drags himself off the floor and washes his hands before turning to the onions. He does it by hand because he doesn't entirely trust himself to combine magic and knives this evening. "I was talking to Dad earlier," he says, sniffing as the spray from the onions starts to affect him.

"This I am aware of," Scorpius says, dodging as far across the room as he can. "He came here looking for you." 

Albus nods. "I know. He found me in the park, and um... We talked about a lot of things. We talked about..." He hesitates mid-chop and glances across at Scorpius. "We talked about the curses."  

Scorpius accidentally flicks his wand too hard at the saucepan and the flames beneath it roar ferociously. "Whoops, hang on." He casts a quick Aguamenti to stop the entire kitchen going up in flames, then takes a deep breath and smiles at Albus. "Apologies. Please continue." 

Albus forces himself to smile back and sets the knife down. "The curses," he says. "I-I talked about them with my dad. How they make me feel. And I think it's time to talk about them with you too. You're my husband _and_ you're my Healer. You need to know." 

Scorpius looks down at his saucepan, then back at Albus. "This doesn't sound like the sort of conversation we can have while we're cooking." 

"I'm hungry," Albus says, picking the knife up again. It's a lie; he actually feels too sick to have any appetite, but he wants the distraction. He wants to be able to talk about this without having to look Scorpius dead in the eye as he says it. Seeing Scorpius's pain and worry will only make this worse. 

Scorpius nods. "Alright then. You keep cooking. But I'm turning this fire off so I don't burn the whole house down." 

Albus smiles. "Probably a good idea." 

Scorpius turns the hob off, then leans against the counter and folds his arms. "Tell me whatever it is you want me to know." 

Albus nods. He starts cutting the onions again, methodical and precise, and as he does he begins to talk. 

"I didn't want to tell you about any of this," he says softly. "I didn't want you to have to worry about me. But I'm not sure if I have a choice any more because..." He swallows. "I-I'm a bit scared. And I know that I can't fix it on my own, but you can because it's your job to fix it, and I trust you. So..." He gives a little gesture to say 'I suppose I should just get on with it'. 

Scorpius pushes off the cabinet he's leaning against and crosses the kitchen. He stands beside Albus and smooths a hand down his back, looking at him with such concern that when Albus glances up he can only meet his gaze for a second before it begins to feel like he’s being burned by it. In the bright lights of the kitchen, Scorpius's eyes shine the same silver as the wedding rings gleaming on both their fingers. 

"Go on," Scorpius murmurs. He skims his hand up to play with the curls of hair on Albus's neck, and Albus shivers but doesn't brush him away. Scorpius's touch is warm and comforting. It's a nice reminder that he's there, that he always has been there and always will be no matter what. 

Albus nods and take a deep, shaky breath, then he starts talking. He tells Scorpius about all of it, about how sometimes he feels angry and out of control. About those sudden flashes when something comes out of him that isn't him at all, that doesn't reflect his own thoughts and feelings. He talks about how he'd felt in the meeting, how when he'd started arguing he didn't really know what he was doing. He tells him about the moments in the park with his dad, when his chest and head had started aching and the darkness had risen up inside him and he'd wanted to lash out. And he talks about how afraid he is of ruining everything, about how he's terrified he'll say more horrible things to Scorpius and won't remember it. The curses in him are awful and terrifying and he wants them gone before they make him do something else that he'll regret for the rest of his life. 

And as he talks, Scorpius listens. He keeps a steadying hand on Albus's shoulder or his back or in his hair. When Albus glances at him he can see the focus there. He has Scorpius's complete attention, and it feels good. It helps. Even just saying it all makes him feel better than he could have hoped. Or maybe what's making it better is the fact he knows that Scorpius has the power to fix it. There's hope in these words. 

"I-I just think I need help," he says, and his voice cracks. He swallows and puts the knife down, burying his face in the palms of his hands and closing his eyes. "I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of losing you. I-I'm scared of doing something even more terrible without even realising." He shakes his head. "I don't like this feeling of... of being out of control. I hate it." He takes a breath and looks up at Scorpius. "Please help me." 

Scorpius takes hold of both Albus's hands and looks down at his palms. It seems like he doesn't quite know where to start. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, then he brushes his thumbs over Albus's palms and releases his hands. 

"I didn't know any of this," Scorpius murmurs. "Albus." He cups Albus's face with his hands and steps closer to him. 

Albus runs his hands down Scorpius's arms and presses their foreheads together. "I'm sorry."

"No," Scorpius says. "No, don't apologise." He presses a soft kiss to Albus's lips, then wraps both arms round him and gathers him into a hug. Albus buries his face in Scorpius's shoulder and clings to him, twisting his hands into the back of his shirt. He feels Scorpius's fingers brush gently through his hair. 

"Thank you," Scorpius says. "Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me." He kisses Albus on the cheek. "I know you, Albus Severus. I know how hard it is for you to talk about these things... I'm proud of you." 

Albus gives a little sob and tightens his grip. "I-I already made a mess of things though. I already hurt you." 

"And I know that that wasn't you, and I know that you're sorry." He pulls away and takes Albus's face in his hands again. "The fact that you've told me all of this- I know it's serious, and we're going to fix it, okay?" 

Albus meets his eyes and gives a tiny nod. "Okay." 

"We're going to fix it together. I promise you." He presses another kiss to Albus's lips, then holds him away and looks him dead in the eye. "We're not going to let this beat you."

Albus lets himself get lost in the beautiful, silvery gaze that he loves so much. He lets himself get lost in the warmth of Scorpius's grip. He lets himself get lost in the familiarity of their home, and the soft pattering of rain on the window outside. And he lets himself believe that Scorpius is right, that they can do this together. 

As an Auror, the dark is so ever present and overwhelming that sometimes Albus can't believe it's beatable, and it's been starting to feel like that in the last couple of days. But if anyone can convince him that they can face it down bit by bit, it's his husband. Scorpius has seen the dark and beaten it. He's been to hell and back. And he gives Albus strength. 

"Okay," Albus says, and it sounds small and broken, so he clears his throat and tries again. "Okay," he says, stronger and more certain. He gives a flash of a smile, and Scorpius smiles back. 

"We can do anything, Albus. So we can definitely do this." 

Albus nods. "I know. I believe in you." 

"And I believe in _you_ ," Scorpius replies. "In fact, I believe in us. If anyone can do this we can, and I think that there's no time like the present to get started." He draws his wand. "Do you mind if I-" 

"Scorpius?" Albus says, putting a hand on his chest. 

Scorpius breaks off, frowning. "Yes?" 

Albus can't help but grin at his confused expression. "Do you think we could maybe have dinner first?" His appetite has come back all of a sudden and now his stomach is gurgling. He taps Scorpius on the chest. "I know this is important, but I know that if we don't eat dinner now we never will. And I didn't just chop all these onions for nothing." 

Scorpius laughs and pockets his wand. "Fine. Fine. A few more minutes can't hurt I suppose. But, the second we're done..." 

"I'll sit still and let you examine me," Albus says, failing to contain a smirk. 

Scorpius eyes him. "Only you could make that sound like an innuendo..." 

Albus laughs and plants a kiss on him. "That's why you married me, isn't it?" 

Scorpius strokes his hair and grins. "There were lots of reasons. But that was certainly one of them. Your astounding ability to chop onions without crying was another." 

Albus beams and slides the chopping board to him. "You are most welcome." 

Scorpius takes the onions and tips them into a frying pan. He gets the heat going again with a flick of his wand, gives them a poke with a wooden spoon, then turns back to Albus. 

"It's my job to heal people who've been cursed. I've spent years training to do this. I'm not going to fail you, I hope you know that. This – a situation like yours – is the reason why I wanted to do this with my life. So I'm going to do a good job for you." 

Albus looks at him. "When you've sorted me out, I'm going to thank you by taking you to that bakery for breakfast and talking about your list. And maybe I'll throw in one of those bumper boxes of Jelly Slugs too." 

Scorpius grin. "Make it Pepper Imps and you've got a deal." 

Albus nods. "Deal." He reaches out and grabs Scorpius's hand, hauling him in for a long kiss.


	6. A Knockturnal Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius's attempt to heal the second part of Albus's curse is rudely interrupted, and another quiet night in quickly becomes a mission that takes them into the bowels of Knockturn Alley.

Albus sits cross-legged on the sofa and watches as Scorpius scans a book about Counter-Curses. He's got it levitating in the air in front of him, and is muttering to himself as he reads. Albus reaches across and tickles the bottom of one of his feet to get his attention, and Scorpius shrieks and writhes away, the book falling closed in his lap. 

"Albus!" Scorpius says irritably. "That's not helpful." 

Albus grins. "Sorry. But you've been reading for ten minutes. I didn't want you to get distracted and forget I was here. There's a reason books are banned in our bedroom." 

Scorpius glares at him and picks the book up, smoothing the creases out of the pages. "I was trying to make sure I wasn't going to do anything stupid and make this worse. But if you want me to mess this up then by all means, keep tickling me." 

Albus holds his hands up and leans against the arm of the chair. "Sorry. I'll stop."

Scorpius opens the book again, then glances across at him and beckons. "Come here. I'll show you what I'm thinking." 

Albus twists round and shuffles up next to him, curling against his side. He peers down at the book and sees a few diagrams and a lot of complicated-looking text. 

"This curse is more tricky than the other one," Scorpius says. "That was more dangerous to fix, but it was a lot more straightforward. With this one I don't really want to improvise. I'd like to know what it's affecting, and try to work out a Counter-Curse if I can. You see this diagram over here?" He points it out and launches into an in depth explanation of how the tests he wants to run work. Albus barely keeps up, and in the end he tickles Scorpius's side to stop him. 

Scorpius squeaks and bats Albus's hand with the book. "What was that for?" 

"Ow!" Albus protests. "That was uncalled for." 

"You tickled me," Scorpius says.

 "I'm not following," Albus says. "And you were off on one. I had to stop you somehow." 

"I can explain it again," Scorpius offers. 

Albus shakes his head. "That's okay. As long as you understand that's all that matters." 

Scorpius smiles and nods. "I suppose so. Shall we do this then?" 

Albus spreads his hands. "I'm all yours. Go for it." 

Scorpius sets the book down on the couch next to him and grips his wand. "I'm going to need you to remember as much as possible about what makes you angry. Sometimes it helps to get as close to triggering the curse as we can without actually triggering it. This might feel a bit scary but I'm with you, and I know what I'm doing." 

"Of course." Albus buries his face in his hands and tries to think. "Do you remember what we were talking about the evening we fought?" He asks. "I still don't remember much of it, but the curse was definitely working then, and I remember pain in my chest more than my head." He looks up at Scorpius. "That's the worst I've been. Doesn't it make sense to start there?"

Scorpius nods. "You have a point." He twists his wand between his fingers and frowns. "That night, it was just after you got back from the house, wasn't it? You got back about noon and you slept all day. I sat with you because you looked like you were having bad dreams." 

Albus looks up as memories suddenly flood his mind. "I was! I dreamed about the house, and- and about the girl...”

Scorpius nods, and Albus can see he's keeping an eye out for every single tiny movement that might be a clue as to what's going on. There's the tiniest bite of pain in Albus's chest, and Albus wonders if he ought to mention it, but it doesn't feel bad enough to mean anything yet. He’s been hurting like that pretty much constantly since he was cursed.

"When you woke up I noticed that you were unusually grumpy," Scorpius says. 

Albus smiles and puts his hand just above his heart, where his chest is hurting. "I'm always grumpy first thing in the morning." 

"Not like that. You looked sick." Scorpius gestures to his hand. "Does it hurt?" 

"A tiny bit," Albus admits. "Just a tiny bit." 

Scorpius nods. "Tell me when it gets worse."

It doesn't escape Albus's notice that Scorpius says 'when' not 'if', but he doesn't comment on it. "So I was irritable. Then what happened?" 

"I think you told me you were feeling sick," Scorpius says. "And I wasn't at all surprised. You really did look awful. But you didn't want to talk about that, so we changed the subject to the news, about the house and then about the girl." 

"We talked about her? Even before you figured out that she was involved in this mess?” Albus asks. The pain is building in his chest now, and he presses his hand harder over his heart. 

Scorpius nods. "I thought it would be a harmless subject, just something safe and topical, but I think that was what made you most angry. I didn't understand why."

Albus wants to try and answer, to try and remember why he was angry then, but he can't. The pain is making the world feel narrow, and he can barely focus on anything beyond it. 

"This really hurts," he says in a strained voice, pushing his hand past the collar of his shirt to rub his chest. He curls up into a little ball and tries to take deep breaths. "Scorpius... I don't know what it is, but- But it hurts." 

Scorpius slides an inch closer to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Okay," he says. "Okay. Does it hurt as much as when you went to the house with your dad?" 

Albus swallows and shakes his head. "N-no, but similar... More than yesterday I think."

"Alright." Scorpius gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, then he pulls away and draws his wand. "I'm going to cast a spell to show me what's going on inside you. It won't hurt. It's just to help me. Is that okay?" 

Albus nods, not really caring what Scorpius does when he’s being consumed by dark, twisting agony. "Yes. Yes. Just Do it." 

Scorpius waves his wand and a smokey image of Albus's body materialises in the air next to them. For a second it's just a dull grey, then suddenly it lights up with vivid colours, blues and reds and purples, and just a bit of gold. It takes a lot of effort, but Albus manages to lift his head and stare up at it

"That's me." 

Scorpius nods. "Yes it is." 

"Why is there so much red?" Albus asks, curiosity winning over the pain. There's a _lot_ of red, mostly in his heart and in his head, but in a lot of other places too, overwhelming the other colours. Red for danger. He can't imagine this is good. 

Scorpius swallows. "Red... red is anger. These are your emotions, and they shouldn't... they shouldn't look like this. This is what I’d expect to see if I cast this spell while we were having an argument, maybe, or if you’d had a bad day at work and were venting about it.”

"But we're not arguing now," Albus says, looking desperately at Scorpius. 

"No," Scorpius says. "We're not. So I don't know what's happening." 

Albus takes a deep breath. "I don't think I feel angry. Not like that anyway." He looks at Scorpius. "It's bad, isn't it? That I don't even know I'm feeling like that."

"It's not great," Scorpius says softly, frowning. He pauses for a long moment, clearly thinking, and Albus doesn't say anything because he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what's going on in Scorpius's head; he barely even knows what's happening in his own. He doesn't trust himself to say or think or feel anything, so he just sits in silence and tries not to panic.

"In the meeting yesterday," Scorpius says, looking between Albus and the misty shape of Albus. "You seemed to get fired up when we started talking about going to get the girl, didn't-"

He breaks off as the red bits of mist suddenly flash an even more vibrant colour, and for a second they seem to overtake Albus's entire form. Albus gasps in pain and clutches at his arm.

"Scorpius!" 

"Okay," Scorpius squeaks. He swallows. "Okay. Did that hurt?" 

"A-a bit," Albus says, digging his fingers hard into Scorpius's wrist. "What was that?" 

"You reacted," Scorpius says, staring at the smokey diagram in front of them. "To me saying-" He looks at Albus. "When we had that fight, we were talking about her, and about kids, and-" 

He stops as the red mist once again consumes Albus's whole form. Albus collapses forward and curls up as pain shoots out from his heart again. Scorpius runs a hand down his back and holds onto him. 

Albus takes a couple of deep breaths, and when he's finally got the pain at bay he takes hold of Scorpius's hand and lifts his head. 

"This morning," he murmurs. "I was talking to my dad about your list, and it hurt. When we were talking about kids, it-" Over Scorpius's shoulder the smoke brightens again, more pink than red this time, but still enough that Scorpius glances up at it. 

"I don't understand," Albus says. "Why this? Why would a curse make me angry about kids? About a little girl?"

Scorpius shakes his head and turns back to Albus. "I don't know." He takes Albus's hands. "But that's okay. The why doesn't matter so much. We can work that out later. At least now we know what's causing it I can start working on a Counter-Curse. I can start right now. Maybe we can even sort this out tonight, and-" 

A soft pop coming from the direction of the fireplace makes him stop, and they both look across the room. Harry's head is sitting among the flames, looking around, hair a mess, glasses askew. He looks wild, but Scorpius either doesn't notice or doesn't care. He growls and gets to his feet, with the sort of blazing assertion that makes Albus’s heart flutter on every one of the rare occasions he witnesses it.

"Harry," Scorpius says, striding across the room. "This isn't a good time. We're actually in the middle of-" 

"I need Albus," Harry interrupts. "I need Albus right now. He needs to come." 

Albus, who had been quite happy to enjoy watching Scorpius deal with this, gets up off the sofa and starts towards the fireplace too. He feels a bit dizzy and shaky, unsteady on his feet. His chest is still aching. 

"Why?" He asks when he catches up to Scorpius and can lean on him for support. "What's happened, Dad?" 

Harry looks between the two of them. "There's an apartment on Knockturn Alley. One of the Death Eaters is there. Evelyn Rowle. I think there might be information there. People have been coming and going all day but I know they're about to leave and I want to break in." 

Scorpius folds his arms and shakes his head, moving so he’s standing slightly in front of Albus, blocking him. Albus feels a surge of gratitude to him and squeezes his shoulder tighter to say thank you. 

“No,” Scorpius says bluntly. “No way. Albus isn't in a fit state to be going anywhere right now." 

"There's no one else!" Harry says, voice rising with desperation. "Everyone is out already, following people. We have some amazing leads. I can't call them back. But this is an unmissable opportunity and I can't go in alone. Not after what's already happened. I need back up, I need it now, and there's no one but Albus. Please, Scorpius. If there were another option I'd take it, but-“ He pauses, forlorn, sparks dancing in his eyes. “I'll take care of him, I promise. It's not like the other house. No bad memories or anything. It should be safe." 

Albus takes a deep breath and lets go of Scorpius's arm, wanting to see if he can actually manage to stand up straight on his own before he even considers doing something this stupid. It's not as bad as he'd first thought when he'd got up. Maybe now they've stopped talking some of the effects on him are waning. 

"What's in the flat?" He asks, brushing past Scorpius and kneeling on the hearth. "What do you think we'll find in there?" 

"Information," Harry says, looking directly at him. Albus knows that look, it's the look Harry gives when he wants to get someone on side and he won’t take no for an answer. "They're planning something in there. There's been activity all day, people excited, people talking. I couldn't get close enough for much surveillance on the actual conversations, but I know something is happening." He glances at Scorpius then back to Albus again. "This might be our only chance of finding out what they're planning. I don't know what's happening elsewhere, but this might be it. I really think we need to do this. If we don't-" He shakes his head. "I don't know what might happen." 

Albus bows his head for a moment, then he gets to his feet and turns to face Scorpius. "I feel okay," he murmurs, trying to keep his voice soft enough that Harry can’t hear. "All we have to do is break in and have a nose around. It's not like I have to duel someone. I think I could do it. I-I think.”

Scorpius puts a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to,” he whispers. “No one would blame you. Especially when you’re sick like this. It might just be a bit of nosing around but we don’t know what you’ll find. We don’t know what damage it’ll do.”

Albus nods. “I-I know that. I know. But this sounds important.”

“Your health is important,” Scorpius says.

Albus brushes his hand down Scorpius’s chest then screws it up into a fist and digs it into his pocket. “True... But I think I’m willing to take the risk.”

Scorpius hesitates for a moment, but he doesn’t argue. He squeezes Albus’s arm, then releases him and moves forward to talk to Harry. He crouches down on the hearth and looks Harry right in the eye. “If Albus has to go I’m coming too.”

Harry sighs sending a little puff of ash spilling across the carpet. "This is a raid, Scorpius. It might not be a dangerous one but I'm not risking anyone. You’re not an Auror. You’re not trained. We can’t just take you with us. Authorised personnel only." 

Scorpius folds his arms and juts his chin in a way that reminds Albus an awful lot of himself. "You're the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, authorise me."

Harry laughs, and sparks crackle in the grate. "Scorpius, I can't do that! It doesn't work that way." 

Scorpius points to Albus and leans in closer, voice dropping dangerously low. "He is my patient. He is very sick. And if I can't come with him he's not going. You take both of us or neither of us, Harry. Your choice." 

Albus doesn't think he's ever seen Scorpius look this fierce before. It's impressive. With the flickering firelight on his face, making his silver eyes flash red and gold, expression tight and determined, he looks almost intimidating. Not someone to be messed with. Albus thinks that if his hair were a little longer he'd be the spitting image of his dad. And although he won't admit it, Albus is exceptionally grateful to have Scorpius fighting for him. He really wouldn't have wanted to go alone. 

He reaches out and brushes his fingers against Scorpius's shoulder to say thank you, and Scorpius gets up and puts an arm around him, still glaring at Harry. 

"I'm serious," he says. "I don't care how much you need him or what the rules are. He's not going without me."

Harry looks between the two of them. "I-" He breaks off and shakes his head. "Okay. But we need to go now."

"Give us five minutes to get changed," Albus says, glancing down at himself. He's wearing pyjamas. He'd been expecting to go and curl up in bed soon. That's what he'd been hoping for at least. But now... Now they have to go gallivanting off to Knockturn Alley. 

"Five minutes," Harry says. "Meet me outside Gringotts." 

 

It's dark and it's cold. Diagon Alley is quietening down for the night, so Albus and Scorpius don't see many other people as they walk along the street towards Gringotts. The Christmas lights that have just been lit in the last couple of weeks glitter overhead, and Albus digs his gloved hands deep in his pockets to try and keep warm. 

"Your scarf's coming loose," Scorpius says, gesturing for him to stop. "Come here." 

Albus comes to a halt and lifts his chin so Scorpius can get to his scarf. "It's Dad's fault for making me rush. Is he even here yet?"

Scorpius tucks the ends of the scarf inside Albus's jacket, then glances over his shoulder. "I don't think so."

"Good," Albus murmurs. He pulls his hands from his pockets and blows on his fingers instead. "Can we run away before he arrives? Say we got lost or something?" 

Scorpius brushes a hand down Albus's chest and frowns at him. "Are you okay?" 

Albus stares down at the floor for a long moment, then he takes a deep breath and makes himself meet Scorpius's eyes. "No. No I'm not. I wanted you to heal me. I wanted us to stay at home. And now we're-" He gestures around the deserted, ice-glazed street. "Knockturn Alley will be even worse." 

"I like the Christmas lights though," Scorpius says, glancing up. "We'll get a holiday soon. Both of us. For once." 

Albus smiles. "Unless your dad recruits us to help with his Christmas soirée again." 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I still can't believe he calls it that. And he _will_ recruit us. He thinks you're a brilliant cook, and I know for a fact that he loves your Charmwork." 

Albus links arms with him as they walk the last few steps to Gringotts. "How do you feel about taking a long holiday, somewhere warm by the sea, and skipping Christmas?" 

The look of horror on Scorpius's face makes Albus burst out laughing, and he has to bury his face in his hands to muffle the sound. He's still cackling when Harry finally arrives a minute later, only half wearing his cloak, holding his wand between his teeth as he frantically tries to clean his glasses. 

"Sorry I'm late," he says breathlessly as he slips the glasses onto his face and takes hold of his wand. "Had to call Ginny, let her know what we're up to. Are you both ready to go?" 

They nod, and follow behind Harry as he leads the way towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley. 

"It's going to be okay," Scorpius murmurs, sticking close beside Albus and taking hold of his hand. "We'll do this and then we can go home and I'll heal you. I'm not going to let anything bad happen tonight." 

Albus nods. "I know. Thank you." He squeezes Scorpius's hand, then releases it and rushes ahead to catch up with his dad. He may not want to be here, but he can’t kill the Auror instinct in him, the need for information, the need to plan and prepare even if it ends up being futile. "What are we about to walk into? What's this place like?"

Harry glances at him. "Quite nice for Knockturn Alley. It's a flat above a shop. You go up a set of stairs to the side of the shop door to get in. It should be empty now." 

"And how do you know it's empty?" Albus asks. 

"I overheard someone talking about everyone leaving it for a while tonight. They were saying they needed to step up security. I had a poke around earlier and their wards were pretty basic. Between the three of us I think we can handle whatever the increased security measures are. I'd expect it to be pretty similar to what we found in some of the other buildings we've been in."

Albus nods. "Alright." He pats his wand to check it's still in his pocket, then glances up as he realises his dad has stopped dead and is looking at him. "Um..." 

"Albus," Harry says. "I just wanted to say... I know the curses are awful. I hate having to ask you to do this while you're still not okay." He gestures past Albus to where Scorpius is slowly bringing up the rear, his footsteps slow and deliberate enough that Albus can tell he’s giving them space to talk without him listening in. "I hate having to ask him to do this too." He shakes his head and stretches out a hand to touch Albus's arm. "How are you now? This evening? Is there anything I can do to help?" 

Albus considers for a moment. He thinks about the pain still gnawing in his chest. He thinks about his fear. But he also thinks about Scorpius holding his hand. He thinks about how they finally know what's causing all this, how Scorpius will be able to heal him soon. And he thinks about how good it had felt to be honest with his dad this morning. Maybe he should do the same thing now. 

He takes a breath. "I-I'm not great. But Scorpius is working on it, and I hope I'll be better soon." He gives his dad a hopeful little smile. "And for now we'll just have to keep an eye on me." He turns and looks back at Scorpius. “Won’t we, Scorpius?”

“Won’t we what?” He asks, hurrying up to join them.

Albus links arms with him. “Have to keep an eye on me.”

Scorpius nods and squeezes his arm. "Yes, we will. Once we're done here we're taking you home for an early night." 

Albus smiles. "It's already nearly midnight. I think our chances of an early night went out of the window ages ago. But maybe a lie in tomorrow?" He looks hopefully at Harry, who pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. 

"A lie in for all of us if this goes well. Which I hope it will do." 

 

They stick to the shadows as they enter the alley, which isn't too difficult. The buildings on either side of them tower so high and the street is so narrow that everything seems to be shadow. They’ve left the Christmas lights of Diagon Alley far behind them, and it’s almost too dark to see anything, but they don't light their wands.

The cobbled ground is uneven underfoot, rutted and twisted, and some of the stones are coming loose. Albus holds tight to Scorpius's hand as they descend a short set of steps, taking them deeper into the alley. 

He knows this area well, but he doesn't know if Scorpius has ever been here before. Maybe Draco has taken him to the part of the alley where all the artefact dealers have their stores, but Albus can't imagine he's entered the warren of streets and houses further on. It's not the sort of place decent wizards tend to go unless they're Aurors. 

Scorpius squeezes Albus's hand tight and presses in close behind him. "I bet even my dad hasn't been down here," he whispers, breath warm against Albus's ear as it mists out into the air. 

"I'd hope he hasn't," Albus murmurs back. 

"Isn't there supposed to be a werewolf pack living in one of these buildings?" Scorpius asks, gazing up at the flat brick façades that seem to be leaning in above them, blocking out the stars. 

"How do you know about that?" Harry asks sharply, glancing back at them. 

"Sometimes," Scorpius grins, voice full of glee. "Albus falls asleep on the sofa with his files open." He kisses Albus on the cheek, and Albus rolls his eyes. 

"I don't think Scorpius understands the meaning of 'top secret'," he says. 

"I'm your husband," Scorpius chirps. "We're supposed to share everything." 

"I don't think 'everything' includes classified information," Albus says giving him a nudge that’s hard enough to make Scorpius stumble sideways into the nearest brick wall, which is only inches away.

Scorpius doesn’t seem too upset about it. As he recovers he blows Albus a kiss and wraps an arm round him. 

Thankfully, at that point the alley turns left and widens out. There was barely room to walk side by side before, but now they're on quite a wide thoroughfare. It's still cobbled, but the buildings stand far enough apart to let the moonlight filter down, bathing the road in silver. 

"It's this one," Harry says, gesturing up to a particularly tall building. It's four storeys high and all the windows are black and grimy. The bottom floor is a shop, with a red sign, the golden lettering faded and peeling beyond recognition. The upper floor windows have balconies outside, made of curling, spiky wrought iron that looks like thorns. There's a battered looking door to the shop, covered in more wrought iron, a grille to keep anyone from breaking in, and next to the door is a set of stairs, lit at the bottom by a flickering blue flame hanging in mid-air. It casts an eerie, icy glow over the street and staircase, and Albus shivers as he looks at it. 

"We have to go up there?" Scorpius asks. 

Harry nods. "To the second floor."

"I don't like that light," Albus says, eyeing the blue flame. "Is that a surveillance spell?" 

"Yes," Harry says. "I saw them set it. I know how to disable it." He draws his wand but keeps it as hidden as he can while he directs it at the flame and mutters a few words. Instantly the flame dies, blue light fading to leave the staircase dark and forbidding. 

"Can we light our wands yet?" Scorpius asks, and Albus can hear the slight tremor in his voice, even though he's clearly trying to sound casual. He’s not used to situations like this. Sometimes Albus forgets that situations like this aren’t normal. He squeezes Scorpius’s fingers and gives him a tiny, encouraging smile that he hopes says ‘I’m here, it’s going to be okay, we can do this together’.

"When we get on the stairs," Harry says. "I don't want people seeing us out here." 

"Okay," Scorpius breathes.

"Go on, Dad," Albus says, gesturing for Harry to lead the way. He lets Scorpius go ahead of him too, so he’s bringing up the rear as they climb the stairs. His chest has been prickling all evening, but as he starts to climb the pain spikes, and he grabs the bannister for support and curls in on himself, clutching his heart. This is the last thing he needs right now. He grits his teeth and tries to breathe while he waits for the pain to subside. 

Scorpius glances back at him. “Albus,” he breathes. “Are you okay?”

Albus inhales, counts to three, exhales, and lifts his head. “Chest,” he murmurs. “It’s fading. I’ll be okay.”

It’s not a lie. The pain is easing just a little, enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to collapse and fall back down the stairs. He can do this. He has to do this.

Legs shaking, he starts up the stairs, nudging Scorpius ahead of him. “Come on.”

They all light their wands as they creep up the rough steps to the first floor. At one point Scorpius trips on the uneven ground, and Albus has to reach an arm out to steady him. Even with their wands lit it's still dark on the stairs, and Albus feels uncomfortable and on edge. Aside from the pains in his chest, the back of his neck keeps prickling like someone is watching him, but when he glances around no one is there, and when he casts a detection spell he doesn't find any Surveillance Charms.

There's a rickety door at the top of the stairs. It has four panes of glass in, one of which is broken, and there's a rusty keyhole set beneath a black doorknob. Albus keeps his wand trained on the stairs behind them while Harry starts muttering spells to try and work out whether the door is safe to unlock. He must decide that it is because a few moments later, he whispers "Alohomora" and the door clicks and creaks open. 

"Up one more floor," Harry breathes, pointing upwards before stepping inside. Albus has to give Scorpius a gentle nudge to get him to follow, but he steps over the threshold, and Albus pulls the door shut behind them. 

The apartment is dingy and dismal. The wallpaper has a dull green flowery pattern, and it's peeling off the walls. Chunks of plaster lie on the rough, bare floorboards where they've fallen from the ceiling. It smells damp in here, and it's very cold. There's a draught leaking in from somewhere, and Albus shivers and draws his jacket tighter around his body. 

Scorpius raises his wand to cast light further down the hall, chasing away some of the shadows lurking there. "This place is really creepy... But I suppose this is Knockturn Alley. Do you think upstairs will be better?" 

"I wouldn't count on it," Albus murmurs, shining his wand up the rickety wooden stairs to the second floor. "After you two." 

The staircase creaks as they walk up it. Every time it makes a noise Scorpius freezes and shines his wand around wildly. He's starting to make Albus anxious too; his heart is pounding. Between the random stabbing pains that seem to worsen by the second, Scorpius being so nervous, the darkness and cold, and the weird, uncertain feeling inside him, Albus is getting jumpy. He never gets like this on a job, he's known for being calm and level-headed, but maybe the curses are putting a stop to all that. 

The second floor is no less creepy than the first. It seems even darker because there are heavy black drapes over the windows at either end of the hall, blocking out the little moonlight that's lighting the street outside. There are three doors along the corridor, all shut, and Albus thinks he can hear something. It's too quiet to place, but he wonders if there's a mouse or a rat in here somewhere. Or maybe it's just his imagination. 

"Which room?" He asks, voice low, with a slight tremble to it.

"I'm not sure," Harry murmurs back. "There was light coming from both the front rooms." 

Albus nods. "Should we split-"

"No!" Scorpius's voice squeaks in fear and he grabs Albus's arm. He takes a very deep breath and shakes his head. "No," he says at a much more normal pitch. "Let's _not_ split up. Please." 

Harry shrugs. "Alright. First room first then." He steps up to the door nearest them and pushes it open. 

The windows in this room are covered with black drapes too, although Albus can immediately spot the gap at the side that had let the light get through. As they step into the middle of the room and raise their wands, Albus can tell that this must be some sort of war room. 

There's a long table over by the window, with chairs surrounding it. Candle stubs have melted onto the table, what's left of the candlesticks surrounded by pools of what must have recently been molten wax. There are burn marks where the flames have got too low to the wood. Some bits of parchment and quills have been left on the table, and Scorpius levitates one of the bits of parchment so he can read it without touching it. 

"Be careful," Harry says, sweeping his wand in an arc across the room. "I can't detect any traps but I don't trust them." 

"There's nothing interesting on these papers," Scorpius says, levitating another one. "Could they be writing in code?" 

"They're not using any codes we know about," Albus says, leaning against his side and reading over his shoulder. "But you're right, there's nothing... Just that bit about a supplier in Upper Flagley... Dad, do we have anyone in Yorkshire?" 

"Not yet," Harry says, inspecting the inside of a cupboard. "I'll send someone up there when we get back to the office. If you two can copy those papers we can check if there's anywhere else we need to be looking." 

"Is a basic Duplication Charm okay?" Scorpius asks, glancing at Albus. He looks uncertain, and Albus realises that this is one of the rare situations where he's both more comfortable and more knowledgeable than Scorpius. For some reason that makes him feel calmer and more in control. 

"Perfect," Albus says, patting him on the arm. "We can do all these together, then when we're done we can go and investigate the other room. Try not to move anything too much.”

They stand side by side in front of the table, casting Gemino Charms over and over again in perfect silence. It's so methodical and calm and normal that Albus almost forgets where they are and the pain he's in. He smiles when he feels Scorpius's arm bump against his. Never before has he had chance to really share his work with his husband, beyond grumbling about it or asking Scorpius to practice Transfiguration spells with him for tests, and he finds that now they're both here, although the circumstances aren't the best, he's really happy. 

He gives Scorpius a little nudge and smiles at him. "That's good. Maybe you should consider a career change." 

"Merlin, no." Scorpius gives a shaky little smile in return. "If you weren't here I wouldn't have made it inside this place. How do you do this every day? It's terrifying. What if someone comes back while we're up here?" 

"We duel them," Albus says with a grin. He gives his last bit of paper a tap and it replicates perfectly, then he gathers up his and Scorpius's bundles and casts the spell to send them back to the Ministry. "But let’s hope it won't come to that." He holds a hand out to Scorpius. "Shall we go and have a look next door?" 

Scorpius glances at Harry, who's now running his hands over the walls. "Shouldn't we-" 

Albus laughs. "He's Harry Potter. I think he'll be fine on his own." 

Scorpius relaxes at that and takes hold of his hand. "Alright. I suppose you have a point." 

The floorboards squeak as they make their way down towards the second door, but not loudly enough to cover the muffled noise Albus had heard earlier. The rustling, and now something else. A soft sound that, if he didn't know better, he'd think was someone crying. 

Scorpius pauses. "Can you hear that?" He whispers. 

Albus nods. "Just rats or something," he breathes. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "It sounds like crying." 

Albus swallows and gestures upwards. "Maybe there are ghosts. Or a ghoul. There's no way this place isn't haunted. Maybe there's a Myrtle in one of the upstairs bathrooms."

Scorpius looks dubious. "Maybe..."

Albus gives his hand a gentle tug. "Come on. Don't think about. We have work to do." 

Scorpius glances around, but he does follow reluctantly as Albus leads the way into the second room. 

This one seems to be a small office. There's a rickety little table with a single chair, and this room is littered with more papers. They cover the table, there are stacks on the floor, and there are papers stuck to the walls too. 

"Look for clues," Albus says. "Look for information. Anything that might tell us what they're planning. I bet there's something in here. There has to be." 

He starts sorting through the papers on the desk, reading them through carefully and discarding them. There's a bit of correspondence about the Aurors and the Ministry, some mention of a plan, but nothing specific. He can't find anything about the girl anywhere, although he's not sure if he wants to when his chest is aching more and more by the second and he feels... He doesn't even know how he feels but he doesn't like it. 

"Scorpius?" He says, looking up from the papers. 

Scorpius turns to look at him, and everything Albus was going to say fades in his mouth as he sees Scorpius's expression. 

"I found something," Scorpius says, holding out a piece of paper in his hands. 

"What is it?" Albus asks, walking across to him. His heart is racing all of a sudden, and he puts a hand on Scorpius's arm to steady himself. 

"It's an article from a Muggle newspaper."

"A Muggle one?" 

Scorpius nods. "Look at this." He points to an article about halfway down the page that's been circled. "It's about some sort of event. Some sort of party, a celebration... It says it's going to be huge; right in the middle of London." He looks at Albus. "Lots of Muggles, all in one place... If you set an Obscurial loose you could kill hundreds, thousands. It would be the biggest anti-Muggle atrocity possibly ever." 

Albus grips Scorpius's arm as his head swims. He knows he's digging his fingers in too hard, but he can't help it. He feels like he's about to collapse. And then, all of a sudden, he gets a new urge. 

He snatches the paper from Scorpius's grip and crumples it in his hands. "We shouldn't be here." 

Scorpius draws his wand, and some small part of Albus feels comforted, but most of him feels angry. 

"Don't threaten me. We need to leave." 

"There's a third room," Scorpius says with a calm authority. "We need to finish in here, and we need to look in the third room." 

"No!" Albus shouts, sharp, cutting through the eerie quiet. It sounds so loud that he makes himself jump, and Scorpius takes a step back. 

"Albus-"

"I'm sorry." Albus buries his face in his hands and takes a deep breath. His heart is still pounding and he feels sick. Everything feels blurry and confused and he's not even entirely sure what he's apologising for. 

Scorpius strokes his hands down Albus's arms and draws him into a hug. "Albus, it's okay. Don't worry." He pulls back an inch or two and looks at Albus. "You're very pale. Do you want to go outside for some fresh air?"

Albus shakes his head and rubs his chest. "No. I'm- I'm okay. We should keep looking. And there's that-" He bows his head. "That third room too." He looks down at his hands and realises he's holding a screwed-up piece of newspaper. "Here." He hands it to Scorpius. "You have this. I'll go to the other room." 

"You shouldn't go alone," Scorpius says. "I'll come too. We can always come back for whatever's in here when we've checked everything's clear." 

Albus nods, distracted by the ache in his chest and the weird fuzziness in his brain. He knows he should search this room properly, he knows exactly how he should be doing it, but right now actually carrying out the search feels impossible. He can't get his head round the concept. So instead he gives up entirely and crosses the hall to the third room. 

When he touches the doorknob it feels like his chest catches on fire. A sudden conflagration of pain explodes inside him and he gasps and crumples forward, catching the door for support. Scorpius is next to him immediately, putting a hand on his arm, supporting him, but Albus is too determined to be helped. Just to spite the pain he twists the doorknob and kicks the door open, falling across the threshold as he loses his support. 

The first thing he notices once Scorpius has grabbed hold of him and he's regained his balance is that this room isn't dark. Although the curtains are drawn over the window, there's a lamp lit on the bedside table, bathing the damp walls, threadbare carpet, and battered old furniture in golden candlelight. 

The second things he notices is that there's a little girl sitting on the bed, staring at him. 

He makes eye contact with her and his whole world splits into white hot pain. A scream rips from his throat and he collapses onto the floor in agony. He's barely conscious enough to realise that the girl is screaming too, until he becomes aware that Scorpius's hands are no longer on him, and a creak of floorboards tells him that Scorpius has gone to comfort her first. 

Albus seethes with anger. His pain seems to fade as he sits up and glares at Scorpius. "Get away from her." 

Scorpius looks round at him. "Albus, look at her. She's scared. If we don't do something she's going to-" He swallows and lowers his voice. "She's going to go off and I don't think any of us want that. I don't think even _they_ want that yet." 

Albus meets Scorpius's eyes and he forces the anger to fade. It's so much harder to be angry when Scorpius is looking at him like this – with love and kindness. He nods and looks past Scorpius towards the girl. Pain pierces through him again but he grits his teeth and keeps looking at her, trying to focus on what he's seeing. 

She's all curled up, head bowed, hugging her knees to her chest. She's very small and skinny, wearing grubby clothes that are far too big for her. Her brown hair is tied back behind her head, making her face look painfully thin. Her eyes are bright, and she's looking between Albus and Scorpius with fearful curiosity. That fear is making smoke come off her in faint black wisps, and she seems to be blurry and undefined round the edges, like she's starting to dissolve. 

 "H-hi," Albus says, voice catching in his throat, chest searing with pain. It's all he can manage to get out before his head starts spinning and he has to try and steady himself again. 

"We're Albus and Scorpius," Scorpius says gently, and the floorboards creak again as he moves forward. "We're not going to hurt you, I promise. We didn't know you were here. Do you live here?" 

"Are you with her?" The girl counters, tone a little shaky but mostly defiant. 

"With who?" Scorpius asks. 

"With Evie."

"With..." 

"Evelyn," Albus says, lifting his head an inch and looking at Scorpius. "Rowle." 

"Oh." Scorpius shakes his head. "No we're not. I promise. We're here to help you." 

As he says those words, 'we're here to help you', Albus feels a sudden urge to run at Scorpius and hex him. No one should be allowed to help her. They need her. _We need her._  

His hand twitches towards his wand but before he has chance to draw it there are running footsteps in the corridor behind them and Harry comes crashing into the room, wand drawn. 

"I heard screaming," he says. "Is everyone- bloody hell. What's she doing here? Albus, are you okay?" 

He steps up next to Albus and puts a hand on his shoulder. Albus manages to wrestle himself back under control and sit on his hands so he can't try to draw his wand. 

Meanwhile, the girl is fading away. It looks like she's shaking with terror at the sight of the wand drawn on her. She's disintegrating. As she shivers, more and more smoke comes off her until she's barely visible, and there's a thick black cloud up by the ceiling. 

"Harry," Scorpius says in a voice that's somehow still as calm as ever. "Put the wand away."

"But-"

" _Please_." 

Harry hesitates for a second, then he tucks the wand into his pocket and holds his hands up. 

"Thank you," Scorpius murmurs. He takes another step towards where the girl had been sitting and crouches down on the floor. "That man," he says, gesturing over his shoulder. "That's Harry Potter. Have you heard of Harry Potter?" 

The girl's form seems to coalesce as she looks at Harry. "Yes," she whispers. "Is he here to help me?" 

Scorpius nods. "We all are. Can you tell me your name? 

Albus clenches his hands into fists and tries not to throw up from the pain and the effort of not interfering. In the distance he hears the girl say her name is Jo, but he can barely concentrate on that. His priority is to get Scorpius away from her. To stop him helping her. He knows what spell he would use. Scorpius is vulnerable. He couldn’t block it in time. He's not even holding his wand. He-

"Dad," Albus groans. "Dad... I need you to take my wand." 

Harry stares at him. "What?" 

Albus nods. "Take it. Get it away from me. I-I don't want to hurt anyone." He doesn't trust himself to touch it, so he rolls onto his side, exposing his pocket. 

Harry pauses for a second, then he reaches out to take it, but as he does there's the sound of a door slamming open, running feet down the hallway, and then the whole world explodes in a storm of spells. 

"Bombarda!" Someone shouts from the doorway. Jo screams, and Albus feels the blast tear past him. Scorpius ducks, but Harry is flung across the room, flipping head over heels and slamming into the far wall where he slumps to the ground, unconscious. Scorpius draws his wand and retaliates with spells of his own, but the woman in the doorway deflects them all, sending sparks and flames and shards of ice slamming against the walls in a confusing jumble of light and sound. 

Behind Scorpius, Jo turns to smoke in the chaos. Her form vanishes entirely and the thick black cloud swirls dangerously by the ceiling. Scorpius whips around and looks up at her. 

"Jo," he calls. "Jo it's okay. I know this is scary but we're going to keep you safe, I promise." 

From the floor Albus sees the grin spread across Evelyn Rowle's face from beneath her mask. He knows what's going to happen; the part of him that’s truly him knows he has to stop it. He knows that he doesn’t even have to risk getting his wand out for this, he just has to command his body to do the right thing.

It takes every ounce of effort to push himself up off the floor and fling himself across the room at Scorpius, just as Evelyn points her wand. 

"Avada Kedavra." 

Green light hits the spot where Scorpius was standing an instant before, but Albus gets there first and tackles him onto the ground. They both slam into the wall and Albus lies there, unable to move for a moment because of the excruciating pain throbbing through his body, and because he's winded. 

"Albus Potter," Evelyn growls, pointing her wand directly at his chest. "Remember which side you're on." She gives an upward jerk of her wand, and for a second Albus feels confused, then he feels something shift inside him. 

Strength floods his limbs, the pain fades, and he feels the overwhelming urge to get to his feet. But it's not like his brain is telling him to get up, this isn't an internal battle that he can fight, the way he's been trained to resist the Imperius Curse. This is something external. Someone else moving him upwards, manhandling him like a doll, and he has no choice but to obey. 

"Scorpius," he says desperately, as he struggles to keep his mind from going blank. "Scorpius, help." 

"Silencio," barks Rowle, and Albus's voice cuts off. 

"Get off him," Scorpius says, struggling to his feet and point his wand at Rowle. "Whatever you're doing, stop it." 

Rowle laughs. "You're certainly not an Auror. Malfoy, isn't it? Delphini should have finished you off while she had the chance. Incarcerus." 

Her spell is far too slow. Scorpius is already shielding, and it ricochets off with a sound like a thunder clap. Overhead, the maelstrom that is Jo spins faster and faster, bits of smoke cascading outwards, knocking plaster off the walls. 

Albus feels helpless and trapped. He can't move against the spell, and every time he tries the edges of the world fade dark from the agony that shoots through his body. He can barely manage to keep control of his brain. He can feel Evelyn working her way inside, removing his resistance, and he doesn't know how much longer he can fight her. There's nothing he can do like this. He can't protect Scorpius, he can't get to his dad to find out if he's alive, he can't even think about talking to Jo because every time he does it makes him feel sick. 

"Albus," Scorpius calls. "Stick with me. I'm going to try to help you." He sends more spells as he says it, blazing streaks of red and gold flying across the room at Evelyn. She ducks two, shields against one, and as the spell ricochets off the shield, a huge chunk of plaster falls from the ceiling and shatters on the carpet. 

Jo seems to be getting more and more distressed by the second. The smoke coming off her isn’t in wisps anymore but plumes: long, ropelike tendrils that smash into the walls and fly at both Evelyn and Scorpius. All Albus can do is stand where he is and hope she doesn't attack him too because if she did he's not sure he'd be able to defend himself. 

Evelyn hurls another green flash of light at Scorpius, who manages to dive away just in time. 

"Albus," he shouts from the ground. "Can you check if your dad's alive?" 

Albus wants to say no, of course he can't. He's trapped here, in pain, and he can't move or do anything. But he can't speak to tell Scorpius that. He can't even nod to say he'll try. It's still taking all his willpower to keep Evelyn out, and the best he can do right now is keep his right hand crossed in front of him and well away from his wand. 

"Oh," Evelyn says brightly. "That's a good idea. Well done, Malfoy." She gestures her wand between Albus and Harry. "Go and see if he's alive." 

And now Albus can fight no longer. His mind goes completely blank and he walks to his dad's side. 

"Albus, I want to try and free you," Scorpius says from somewhere very far away, in the gentle, reassuring voice he's so good at. "Please don't kill me, or- No. Just don't kill me." 

Albus comprehends what Scorpius is saying, somewhere in the back of his mind. He knows that those words are friendly and mean well, but he doesn't know much more than that. He glances over his shoulder at Scorpius and keeps walking. 

The wave of magic hits him just as he reaches his dad. He feels the familiar warmth, like sunlight on a rose garden, like hugging under a mountain of blankets on a cold morning, like laughter and happiness and life. And although his first urge is to grab his wand and curse whoever is putting spells on him into oblivion, with an enormous effort he manages to bring himself to a halt with his fingers closed around the handle. 

_No_ , he thinks. _The magic is helping me_. 

He takes the deepest breath he can and crouches down next to his dad, just like Evelyn is asking him to. He glances up at Scorpius from the floor, to check that he's still there, still safe, still helping, and he sees that Scorpius's face is contorted with concentration. 

_It's going to be okay._

Albus also notices that Jo has calmed down enough in the moment of quiet to reform. She's still misty and blurred, but she's sitting on the bed, back pressed into the corner of the room, glancing between Evelyn and Scorpius and Albus. Albus doesn't even try to interact with her, he just bows his head and looks down at his dad.

Harry's glasses have shattered, and they're dangling off his face. There's blood seeping from a cut on his forehead, and the right side of his body looks like it’s been shattered. Albus feels a pang of intense fear as he looks at him. He's never seen his dad in a state like this before. What if he really is dead? 

Hands shaking, he reaches out for his dad's left wrist. There are spells he could cast to see if Harry is alive but he doesn't know them. Scorpius would, but Albus doesn't. He has to trust himself to be able to tell. 

He glances at Jo, who's staring at him. She'd thought Harry was here to help her, and now he might be dead. Albus wishes he could reassure her, but he can't even reassure himself that everything's okay, and even thinking about helping her brings back the pain and makes Evelyn tighten her control on the spell. 

Very gently he takes his dad's hand and turns it over. It's still warm, which Albus takes as a good sign. He presses his thumb to his dad's wrist, looking for a vein, but as he does, Harry stirs. 

"Albus..." he groans. 

"Dad," Albus mouths in reply, hardly daring to believe it. 

Harry's eyes flicker open, and he gives a very faint smile. "Hi." 

Those quiet words and tiny movements are all it takes for Evelyn to realise what's going on. 

"Albus," Scorpius calls in warning. 

Albus spins round to see Evelyn levelling her wand, and instinct takes over. His training and his heart are stronger than her control, and he doesn't hesitate to cast the strongest shield he can muster around himself, his dad, Jo, and Scorpius. 

A fraction of a second later, Evelyn's spell explodes off the shield. Albus yells at the white hot agony of defying his curse, but his shield holds firm. He manages to keep it there for only a couple of seconds longer before the world goes dark around the edges. As he fades into unconsciousness he sees Jo dissolve into a swirling tornado of rage, terror, and out of control magic; he feels his dad's hand at the base of his back, offering him support, and he hears Scorpius and Evelyn start to duel. Then he slumps sideways and everything disappears.


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the dust settles after the fight in Knockturn Alley, Draco brings Scorpius coffee, Harry refuses to rest, and Albus has a nightmare...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my amazing commenters. I'm trying to get back to you all, and I promise I will eventually. It's a busy time between work and cast change (I'm writing a LOT of letters), but I'm reading everything, and you're all awesome. 
> 
> Also thanks to Abradystrix, my fabulous beta, who keeps going even on her sick bed and when there are cats sitting on her keyboard!

"I brought you coffee." 

Scorpius runs his hands through his dust covered hair and lifts his head to see his dad standing in the doorway of the hospital room. 

"Dad," he whispers. His voice is all but gone from shouting spells, barking orders at the other Healers, and from all the dust in the air as Jo had started destroying the house towards the end of the duel. He's never felt more tired in his life. "I hate coffee." 

Draco smiles and puts the cup down on the little table beside Scorpius. "It's got more sugar and milk in than any other coffee in the world. It's one of those Muggle ones, with the chocolate in. I thought you could probably use the caffeine." 

"Chocolate?" Scorpius asks curiously. He pulls the cup towards him and inhales the scent of coffee beans and cocoa. 

"It's essentially a liquefied tiramisu as far as I can tell," Draco says. "It looks foul. I'm sure you'll love it." 

Scorpius wraps his hands around the paper cup and nods. "Thanks. What time is it?"

"You don't want to know," Draco says. He pulls a pocket watch from within his robes and checks it. "No, you really don't want to know. Have you slept?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I've been watching-" He gestures to the two sleeping figures, one in the bed, one slumped in a nearby chair. "It's still dark outside. It can't be that bad, can it?" 

"It's winter," Draco says. "It can." He shows Scorpius the time. 7:30am. 

Scorpius groans and buries his face in his hands. "I wanted an early night. Albus wanted-" 

Draco sits in the chair beside him and wraps an arm around him, drawing him into a tight hug. "Tonight. And if Potter tries to stop you I'll duel him, no matter what state he's in." He brushes his fingers through Scorpius's hair. "You're covered in dust... No one would tell me anything. Just that Harry was injured and that you were all here." He releases Scorpius and looks at him. "What happened to you all? Where did you go? Are you okay?" 

"We went-" He coughs and takes a sip of the coffee. It's rich and sweet and warm, and he feels like crying with gratitude to his dad. "We went to Knockturn Alley, to this house. There was supposed to be information there, and we found some, but then..." He swallows and takes a deep breath. It hurts to talk but this has been haunting him all night so he needs to say it. 

Draco hugs him again. "You don't have to talk if-"

"There's this little girl," Scorpius says, leaning his head on his dad's shoulder and closing his eyes. "She's only eight or nine, but they've... They've destroyed her. They've turned her magic into this parasite, this thing called an Obscurus. It's all out of control and eating away at her, at her fear and anger and loneliness. They've hurt her so badly that-" He breaks off and clenches his fists in his lap. 

"An Obscurus..." Draco says thoughtfully. "Isn't that one of those monsters Grindelwald used in the war?" 

"Not a monster," Scorpius says, pulling away and twisting round so he can look at his dad. "A child. A child who's been abused and broken and taught to repress their magic at all costs, until it all turns inward and attacks them. Usually these children die." 

"Usually," Draco says. He looks at Scorpius. "Do you think you can save her?" 

Scorpius looks down at his knees and shakes his head. "I don't know, Dad. If I can I will, but..." He gestures across the room at the figure sleeping in the chair. "At this point I don't even know if I can save Albus. I almost didn't. He and Harry both- If I'd waited any longer to get them out..." 

"The curse is getting worse?" Draco frowns and looks across at Albus. "Weren't you going to try and heal him?" 

"I was," Scorpius says. "I did. I tried. I-" He runs his hands through his hair, sending more dust up into the air in a cloud. "I think I might have made it worse." He looks at his dad. "When Harry came to get us I was trying to work out what triggered it, and I think maybe that left Albus more vulnerable. I still haven't worked out everything, but it's like the curse makes him susceptible to being controlled. Evelyn was using him like a puppet. He was fighting back, but Evelyn's not the strongest of witches. If he came up against anyone worse I don't think he'd have a chance. No one would." 

"Evelyn... Evelyn Rowle?" Draco asks. "I remember her. She was just a baby during the war. I had hoped she'd turn out better than her parents." 

"She hasn't," Scorpius says bitterly. He slumps back in his seat and stares into space, feeling miserable and hopeless. "I don't know how I'm going to heal him," he murmurs. "I tried one spell and it didn't do much. There are others, but... I just don't know. I don't know where to start. I'm really scared of putting him in danger. They both nearly died today, and I know there's worse coming." 

Draco puts a hand on his arm. "It's not your job to save everyone, Scorpius. I know it's what you want to do, I know it's important to you to try, but you're not trained to duel. You could have been killed in there. I'd far rather you take care of yourself first." 

"My husband," Scorpius says, and he feels tears choking up in his throat. "My father-in-law, and a scared little girl whose parents have been looking for her for years." He sniffs and shakes his head. "Even if I can't save everyone I should at least be able to save them." 

Draco studies him for a moment, then he squeezes his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

Scorpius swallows and gives a tiny shrug. "I don't know. I just want to get this dust off and go to sleep. And I want- I want Albus to be okay." 

Draco hugs him. "You're both welcome to stay with me whenever you like if it's easier than going home." 

Scorpius nods and squeezes his dad tightly. "Thank you." 

Draco rubs his back. "You'll find a way, Scorpius. If it's possible you'll do it. And if it's not possible then no one will blame you. Understand?" 

Scorpius gives a quiet sniff. "I don't-" 

" _Scorpius_." 

He meets his dad's eyes, and the silver gaze pierces him, intent and determined. Scorpius swallows and nods. "I understand." 

"Good." Draco releases him. "Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold. I know how much you hate wasting chocolate." 

Scorpius smiles weakly and picks the cup up to take another sip.

 

By lunchtime, Scorpius is ready to drop. The caffeine has worn off, his dad has left, the other Healers have long since gone back to their normal duties now the danger is past, Ginny is somewhere trying to do damage control at the Prophet, and Scorpius’s exhaustion is setting in deep. He's summoned up just enough energy to check that Albus and Harry are okay, and now he's curled up in one of the chairs reading a book. He should probably be somewhere else doing some work, but no one's come to find him and hassle him, so he's happy to just hide here and avoid his responsibilities. 

He stares blankly down at the pages of his book, drifting in and out of consciousness, head drooping onto his chest. The only reason he's still awake is that every time he falls asleep he can see swirling smoke and hear Jo's screams. He can see an unconscious Harry with Albus crouching down beside him, movements stiff and jerky and so unlike himself. He can see the blood dripping down Harry's forehead, the awkward angles of his limbs. He can feel the weight of Harry and Albus as he'd finally scooped them both up to escape the crumbling house. 

It had been Jo smashing through the ceiling and sending plaster and dust everywhere that had given him time to grab hold of them both and drag them to the window. He'd cast a Cushioning Charm and jumped, because he hadn't known what else to do. He could have kept duelling Evelyn; probably beaten her, but Harry was slipping away and Albus wasn't faring much better and the house was about to collapse. So he'd jumped with them both, Apparated them to St Mungo's, and got reinforcements to help heal Harry while he'd sorted Albus out. 

Thinking about how close to death they both were less than twelve hours ago makes him feel sick. Harry with his bones all shattered, blood and oxygen leaking out of him. It had taken two Healers three hours and a dose of Skele-Gro to piece him back together. And Albus's heart was racing far too fast, fast enough to fail. Scorpius had had to put him into an enchanted sleep to temper the effects of the curse. What's going to happen when Albus wakes up from that sleep is one of the things that's haunting Scorpius's nightmares. 

He jerks awake again and groans, running his fingers through his hair. It's still all dusty, but he can't go and wash until Albus and Harry are awake; until he knows they're going to be okay. 

He gets to his feet and wanders across to the window just for something to do. It's snowing outside, soft flakes spiralling down from the sky. Christmas lights are already sparkling in some of the windows across the courtyard, and they're laced through the trees in the garden below. Scorpius wishes with all his heart that he could feel some sort of festive cheer, but he won't. Not until all this is over. 

A quiet noise in the room behind him makes him jump and spin round. He's been on edge ever since visiting the house and it's not getting better. He stares wildly into the darkness by the door for a moment before realising that the noise is coming from the bed. Harry has rolled over onto his back and seems to be stirring.

Scorpius rushes across the room, drawing his wand as he goes.

"Harry," he says. "Harry, it's okay. Try not to move too much."

"Albus," Harry groans. "I need to see Albus." He starts trying to sit up but Scorpius gently presses him back onto the bed. 

"He's right here," Scorpius says. "He's asleep. I'm taking care of him. Please, Harry. You need to stay still. I need to check that you're okay." 

"That I'm-" Harry stops struggling and frowns down at the sling on his right arm, and at the bandages covering his torso. "What happened?" 

Scorpius hands him his newly repaired glasses so he can at least see what's going on. "There was a duel. You were very badly injured right at the start." 

Harry slips the glasses on and rubs his forehead. "I don't... remember." 

"You hit your head," Scorpius tells him. "I'm not surprised you don't remember much. Now, give me a second to take a look at you." 

Scorpius has to say aloud the spell that shows him the map of Harry's injuries. It's deeply unprofessional and he feels awful about it, but he can't concentrate well enough to cast it non-verbally right now. 

Harry stares up at the diagram, apparently focusing on the fading red spots that show the healing wounds that litter the right side of his body. 

"Are those-" 

"Your injuries," Scorpius says. "They're a lot better now than they were a few hours ago. But you still need to lie still and not over-exert yourself." 

Harry smiles. "I've been told that before. Don't worry, I'll behave... Was it really that bad? How did we get out?" 

"You nearly died," Scorpius says, avoiding his eyes. "Albus collapsed. I had to duel my way out." 

Harry stares at him. "You had to-" 

"Don't worry about it," Scorpius says, dismissing the map with a wave of his wand and looking at Harry. "It doesn't matter." He digs in his pocket and pulls out the crumpled newspaper cutting he'd picked up at the house. "This is what matters. I think this is where they're planning to use Jo." 

Harry takes the cutting with his left hand and unfolds it awkwardly, peering down at it. "This is from a Muggle newspaper." 

Scorpius nods. "I found it in the office Albus and I searched. It was pinned to the wall. Why would there be a Muggle newspaper in there if it wasn't important?"

Harry frowns and mutters to himself as he reads. "Central London... a huge celebration... estimated attendance _over a million_?" He looks up, eyes wide. "They want to use a little girl to kill hundreds of thousands of Muggles?" 

Scorpius nods. "It seems like it." 

"It says it's happening tomorrow." Harry drops the paper onto the bed and runs his fingers through his hair. "We need to make a plan. Can you heal Albus by tomorrow afternoon? I'll be better by then easily." 

"Harry, I don't think-" 

"We need to try and clear the area. We have contacts in the Muggle police. Maybe we can say there's a bomb threat or something; it wouldn't really be a lie..." He picks the paper up again and glances at Scorpius. "Did you say you can heal Albus? I need him. If we're going to do this we need the best people there, and he's one of them. In fact, we might just need everyone there... I don't know if we know how-"

" _Harry_ ," Scorpius says, strengthening his tone so that Harry has no choice but to listen to him. Harry finally breaks off and looks at him directly.

"You nearly died less than twelve hours ago," Scorpius says. "I don't think it's healthy or safe for you to get involved in this. Either of you. If Albus helps with this it could kill him. Someone else can organise this. Someone else _should_ organise this, and you two should relax and recover." 

Harry's expression goes hard, exactly the way Albus's does when he's digging his heels in for a fight. Usually when that expression appears it means that Scorpius has already lost. 

"This is the biggest Wizarding threat to Muggle safety since the war," Harry says. "Do you understand that?" 

"Of course I-"

"I'm Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Scorpius. You're not stopping me being involved."

"Then at least protect _him_ ," Scorpius shouts, fear and frustration finally exploding out of him. 

The second the words leave his mouth he realises how loudly he's spoken and his cheeks burn. He swallows and takes a step back. "He needs to be safe, and this _will_ kill him. I don't think I can heal him by tomorrow, Harry, and if I try I might end up being the reason he-" He breaks off and bows his head. "He's asleep right now because he's in danger. I'm sorry. I can try, but- It's not safe. I don't- I don't want my husband to die." 

Harry blinks at him. He glances across at Albus then back to Scorpius again. "I thought he was asleep because... because it was a long night. Because of the duel. I thought-"

"I put him to sleep," Scorpius says softly. He glances around for the nearest chair, pulls it close to the bed, and sits down. "He was trying to protect us and it nearly killed him. I thought it was safer to let him rest. If he'd woken up and seen the state of you..." 

Harry looks at his son for several long seconds, expression soft and full of love and concern. Finally he looks up at Scorpius. 

"How do we help him?" He asks. "How do we stop him from-" He shakes his head. "I'm not losing him. That's not an option."

"No," Scorpius murmurs. "It's not." He looks at Harry, desperately needing him to understand. "He's not going anywhere near this mission. He can't. I don't want to keep him away; I know he'll hate it, but..."

"It's for his own safety," Harry agrees. 

"We can keep him away, you and the Aurors can sort things out, and in the meantime I'll try to heal him. Maybe if I can do it fast enough he can..." Scorpius trails off, shaking his head. 

"Don't push it," Harry says, voice softening. He looks up at Scorpius with the same love and concern as he'd looked at Albus just a moment before, and that look makes tears well up inside Scorpius that he has to swallow down. "You both need to be safe. Don't overwork yourself, Scorpius. If you do heal him in time that'll be a huge help, but if you don't... I'd rather you both stayed out of the way. I don't think your father would ever forgive me if something went wrong. I wouldn’t forgive me either.” 

Scorpius takes a shaky breath and looks at Albus. "Okay. But I think I should try. He needs to get better no matter what.”

"What about if you left him asleep until tomorrow night?" Harry asks. "It might be safest. Then we have don't have to fight him about keeping away."

"I don't think we'd have to fight him," Scorpius says softly. Albus looks so peaceful. Small and vulnerable. His mouth is slightly open, and his chest is rising and falling as he breathes, but other than that he's so still and calm. "He knows this is bad," Scorpius murmurs. "But I can't keep him asleep. I need to assess him. I have to know if sleeping has helped. And if he stays in this enchanted sleep for too long he might never wake up. Besides, he needs proper rest, real sleep, and he can't get that from a spell. I know it might be kinder, but I can't..." 

"Alright," Harry says. "So we wake him up and talk to him?" 

Scorpius shakes his head and looks away from Albus, meeting Harry's eyes. "No. _I_ will wake him up and talk to him. You need to rest. You're still healing and if you want to get involved tomorrow you'll need to be a lot better, or I won’t be able to let you go." 

Harry looks for a moment like he's going to protest, then he purses his lips into a grim line. "Fine. But when he wakes up..." He glances at Albus and goes very still and quiet for a moment. "Tell him I'm okay? And that I love him." 

Scorpius nods. "I promise." 

 

Albus doesn't take much persuading. When he wakes he seems so tired and afraid that he agrees right away to steer well clear of the mission. In fact, he almost seems relieved not to be going. That in itself makes Scorpius more worried than ever. Albus is always such a fighter, and to see him giving up on something this important without any sort of argument is a shock. 

During the planning meeting that afternoon Albus curls up on the edge of Harry's bed and sleeps. Harry strokes Albus's hair the whole time he's strategising, and it seems like Albus's presence on the bed beside him is a constant reminder of what's at stake here. Harry is more thorough and precise than he ever has been before, and Scorpius wonders if that's what having a child, especially one who's in danger, does to you, if it makes you want to get everything perfect, because if you put one foot wrong it could cost everything. 

At the end of the meeting, Albus and Scorpius go home, Scorpius finally gets his shower, and then they curl up in bed. Scorpius had wanted to do some reading, maybe make a start on figuring out Albus's cure, but it's been such a long day that they barely say a word to each other before they fall asleep. All they have time to do is wrap their arms round each other, and Albus manages to bury his face in Scorpius's chest as they pass out. 

Scorpius doesn't know how long they sleep for before he jolts awake in the darkness. At first he doesn't know what's woken him. He wasn't dreaming or anything. But then he realises that Albus is lying frozen on the bed next to him, and that he's sobbing quietly, a hand covering his face so Scorpius can't see him. 

Scorpius rolls over and kicks the blankets away from them. 

"Albus. Albus, are you okay? What's wrong sweetheart?" He brushes his fingers through Albus's hair, but Albus rolls away and curls up into a tight little ball. 

Scorpius slides across next to him. "Talk to me," he says softly, stroking a hand down Albus's arm. "Are you hurting again? Or did you have a nightmare, or-" 

"Yes," Albus chokes out. "A-a nightmare."

Scorpius takes a deep breath and tries not to relax too much. A nightmare has to be better than pain, surely? Nightmares are just dreams. But if it was bad enough to make Albus cry like this then it must have been something awful. 

"What was it about?" Scorpius asks gently, stroking a hand down Albus's back to comfort him. 

Albus shakes his head and wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I-I don't- It's confusing." 

Scorpius takes hold of his hand and squeezes it tightly. "Go on." 

Albus gulps in a couple of breaths, then he rolls over towards Scorpius and curls in close, burying his face in Scorpius's chest and clinging to him as tight as he can. Scorpius wraps both arms around him and holds him. 

There are several long seconds of silence, and Scorpius doesn't interrupt Albus's thoughts. He keeps perfectly still and quiet, waiting until Albus is ready to talk. 

Finally Albus runs a hand down Scorpius's side and picks at the hem of Scorpius's t-shirt. He swallows and takes another breath.

"I-I was dreaming about tomorrow," he murmurs, so quietly that Scorpius barely hears him. "I was dreaming about- you know, about her. About Jo. They made her sort of- I don’t know. She went mad and destroyed everything. All these people, the Muggles... They died, and she- She died too. She tore herself apart." He takes a snuffly breath and twists his fingers into Scorpius's t-shirt. Scorpius tightens his grip on him. 

"I-I think they were showing me what's going to happen," Albus says, staring at nothing, eyes glazed with tears. "Maybe they want us there, but I don't know why they would... Why would they invite us so we can try and stop them?" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "I don't know, Albus. I really don't know." He brushes his fingers through Albus's hair and studies Albus's pale, tear-streaked face. Albus looks a complete mess. He lowers his voice and strokes a hand down Albus’s cheek, brushing away the tears. "We can stop this. We're _going_ to stop this. That nightmare won't become reality. I promise."

Albus gulps in a breath and nods, but he doesn’t look at Scorpius and he doesn’t seem convinced.

Scorpius rubs Albus's shoulder and watches him, wondering what’s going on inside his head. He’s not a Legilimens, and even if he was it would be so intrusive to go unbidden inside Albus’s thoughts. But at the same time he wishes he could see what’s in there, what’s hurting him, so he could try and help take some of the burden. And as he wishes that another thought sparks in his brain. 

“Albus,” he says softly.

Albus sniffs and glances up at him. “Mmm?”

“I don’t suppose you saw anything about where they were?” He looks at his husband, trying not to get too excited at the possibility, trying not to push too hard, but at the same time eager to find out if his theory will work. “Maybe we could wait for them,” he says. “If we know where they are and when they’re going we could set up an ambush, or- That’s the sort of thing Aurors do, right?”

Albus nods, and some of the life in his eyes rekindles as he sits up. “Yes! I saw them, where they were planning to go. It was under-" he cuts off with a strangled sound and a look of alarm crosses his face. "I mean it was-" He makes the choking sound again and his excitement begins to collapse into frustration and fear. He stares at Scorpius, wild eyed, and tries again. "In the dream we were all-" A third time he‘s cut off, and this time he clenches his hands into fists. "I-I can't say it. Scorpius, I can't- I don't think they'll let me, I- This _stupid curse_.” He punches the bed hard enough with both fists to make the mattress shake, then he buries his face in his hands. 

Scorpius runs the palm of his hand down Albus's back and gathers him up into a tighter hug. "It's okay," he murmurs.

“No it’s not,” Albus replies, in a strained little voice.

Scorpius doesn’t argue, he just rubs Albus’s back and lets his mind race through why the spell would stop Albus saying the location, and any way they might get round the problem. "Can you write it instead?" He asks, drawing back and looking at Albus. 

Albus sniffs and wipes a hand across his cheeks. He lifts his head and gives a small shrug. "I-I could try..." 

"Here." Scorpius sits up and grabs the quill and parchment he keeps on his bedside table just in case. "Try it." 

Albus takes them, rests the parchment on his knee, and starts writing. The second he begins he seems to lose control of his hand, and the words become a wild scrawl across the page, not even barely legible, just random lines and squiggles. After a couple of seconds of trying Albus crumples the paper into a ball, tosses the quill down and kicks at the blankets. “Stupid fucking curse,” he growls, then punches the mattress again.

Scorpius doesn’t try to gather him into another hug. He knows Albus well enough to be able to tell that if he tried, Albus would just push him away.

"I can't tell you," Albus says, voice bubbling with frustration and barely suppressed anger. "I know I can't tell you. I have to take you there. They want me to-" He sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head, curling up and hugging himself, head bowed, shoulders high, like a hedgehog with all its spikes out.

“It’s going to be okay,” Scorpius says, twisting his hands together in his lap and leaning as close to Albus as he dares, trying to convince himself too. 

“Is it?” Albus asks without lifting his head. 

Scorpius swallows and doesn’t answer. 

For several long seconds a tense silence stretches between them, pulled almost to breaking point, until it’s so fragile that Scorpius feels as though any movement or sound he makes will shatter everything like glass. 

Finally Albus exhales in a rush and lifts his head to look at Scorpius. “I’m scared,” he whispers, barely loud enough for Scorpius to hear him. “I’m really scared.”

Scorpius nods and shuffles towards him in the bed but still doesn’t touch him. “I know,” he murmurs. “I’m scared too.”

Albus lifts his head higher and looks at Scorpius. “Yeah?” He asks, voice small and shaky. 

Scorpius twitches his head in a second nod. “Yeah.”

For a moment Albus is still, then he reaches out and takes Scorpius’s hand. He doesn’t look at him, just messes with his fingers and strokes his wedding band. “I want you to try and heal me,” he says, voice choked but determined. “If I have to go in I- I need you to heal me.”

Scorpius reaches out tentatively and brushes his fingers through Albus’s hair. He’s relieved when Albus doesn’t flinch away. “I think we should go and talk to your dad. He might know a way round this. You might not have to go anywhere.”

“I do,” Albus says, nodding, sounding so certain and so broken, but somehow strong and solid at the same time. Purposeful, businesslike. An Auror who knows how to make the right decisions to protect everyone around him, even if Scorpius suspects he doesn’t feel that way inside. "I know I don't have a choice. But I don't want to be dangerous. I don't want to hurt anyone. I can't go in there with them controlling me, Scorpius. I can't. They’ll make me-“ He meets Scorpius’s eyes for the briefest instant and looks away. “I don’t know what they’ll make me do.”

"Albus..." Scorpius runs a hand down his arm and studies him. "Are you expecting something to happen? Did you see something else in your dream?" 

Albus shakes his head. "I can't- I-I didn't really- I just..." He takes a deep breath. "Please heal me, Scorpius. That's all I need you to do."

Scorpius takes him in for a long moment, examining the haunted but determined look in Albus's eyes, the tear tracks on his cheeks, how pale and afraid he still is, even though his jaw is jutting and he seems so set and strong. "I'll try," Scorpius says, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it tight. "I promise I'll do my best. But Albus..." He lifts Albus's chin and looks him dead in the eye. "You're not going to do anything. I won't let you. Okay?" 

Albus looks right back at him, like he's trying to believe him. "I think we should go and talk to my dad,” he says, then squeezes Scorpius’s hand and pulls away to grab his dressing gown, leaving Scorpius to watch him go, and wonder once more what he’s seen.

 

They Apparate to the lane outside Harry and Ginny's house. It's still pre-dawn and it's freezing cold. The sky above Stoatshead Hill is barely beginning to go red, but the whole world is still bathed in grey shadow and silver mist. A fine frost makes the ground sparkle, and Albus's feet skid as he leads the way up the garden path, hugging his dressing gown around his body and shivering. Their breath fogs in the air in front of them.  

The cat leaves her vigil on the orchard wall to come and wind herself around Albus's legs, a welcome, warm greeting. Albus bends down and picks her up, hugging her to his chest, and she switches the tip of her tail back and forward and glares at Scorpius over his shoulder. 

"I can knock," Scorpius says, stepping forward towards the door, but before he can get there, it opens inwards, spilling soft golden lamplight out into the yard. 

"I heard you Apparate in," Ginny says, stepping across the threshold, still tying the belt of her dressing gown. "Why did you not come by Floo? It's freezing out here." 

Albus lets the cat hop out of his arms, and she disappears into the warm house. "We didn't want to intrude," he says. "It's the middle of the night." 

Ginny shakes her head and walks over to hug him. "You're never intruding. Either of you. This is your home too." She releases him and hugs Scorpius next, and he’s tall enough that he has to lean down a bit to let her wrap her arms over his shoulders. 

"Are you two okay? What are you doing here?" She pulls back and looks at them, concern written across her face. 

Albus glances at Scorpius, then he buries his hands in his pockets and squares his shoulders, looking at his slippers. "We need to talk to Dad," he says. "It's really important." 

Ginny frowns. "Your dad's still asleep. He's recovering." She looks between the two of them. "How important is it?" 

"It can't wait," Scorpius says, stepping forward. "Please, Ginny. It's about the case we've been working on. It-" He glances at Albus for confirmation. "It's a matter of life and death." 

Albus looks at Scorpius. His hair shines silver in the moonlight, and his eyes are so alight with life. Albus feels a twinge of pain in his chest that’s not caused by his curse and he nods. “I-it really is, Mum.”

That must be good enough for her, because she opens the door wider and puts a hand on Albus’s shoulder to guide him inside. “Come in then,” she says, beckoning for Scorpius to go ahead of them. “I’ll go and wake him up.”

It's warm inside. They discard their cloaks by the front door, and when they reach the kitchen, Albus curls up in a chair at the table and blows on his fingers and wriggles his toes inside his slippers. Scorpius stands behind him and rubs his shoulders. By the time Ginny arrives with an exhausted-looking Harry, Albus no longer feels like he’s imminently going to freeze to death. His favourite thing about this house, particularly this kitchen, is how, summer or winter, it always feels warm enough to hatch a dragon egg in here. 

Harry is still wearing his pyjamas as he pads barefoot into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary with sleep, and he rubs them and squints against the candlelight. His hair is a mess but he’s never cared about that, and he doesn't look like he's about to start now. He flops into a chair at the table and squashes his glasses onto his face, then looks at the two of them. 

"Is everything okay?" His voice sounds rough and hoarse, and Ginny immediately leaps into action, summoning cups from the cupboard above the kettle and starting to make tea. When she’s done she shoots Harry a knowing look.

“Be safe this time,” she says. “Please.”

Harry gives a tired, sheepish smile. “Of course.”

She sighs, drops a kiss into Albus’s hair, squeezes Scorpius’s shoulder, and leaves them to it.

Scorpius rubs his shoulder where Ginny had touched him and glances at Albus. "No," he says. "I don't think everything _is_ okay. Albus... Albus had a dream. He saw some things about what might happen today." 

Harry frowns and leans forward in his seat, already looking considerably more awake. "Like the dreams I used to have?" He asks, looking at Albus. 

“I’m not... sure,” Albus says hesitantly. He twists his hands together on top of the table and bows his head, trying to work out how to explain to his dad what it was like. “I’m not a- It was like they were showing me what they wanted me to see. They’re influencing me but they’re not _in_ me. At least I don’t think they are... They want me to help them so they’re showing me things to make me do it... It’s like they’re trying to manoeuvre me into position.”

"What do they want you to do?" Harry asks.

Albus looks his dad right in the eye, because there’s no hiding from the truth, so he might as well say it. “They want me to take you all to where they'll be. Where they're going to make the girl kill everyone." 

Harry blinks several times, apparently taken aback by the bluntness. But then he frowns and pushes his glasses up his nose. “If you know where they’ll be, why do you have to take us? Surely you can just tell us.”

“I can’t,” Albus says.

Scorpius glances at him, apparently waiting for him to expand, but Albus doesn’t feel much like explaining, so after several seconds Scorpius looks at Harry. “We tried that earlier. I asked him to say it, we even tried writing it, but I don’t think the curse will let him communicate that information. He has to take us and show us.”

"And once he's there..." Harry says thoughtfully. "He'll be trapped and they won't let him leave. It's brilliant really." 

Scorpius nods, and reaches out to rub Albus's arm. Albus leans against his side, grateful for that touch. He hasn’t felt this exhausted and vulnerable in years. He’s frustrated and scared, and he just wants to do something – anything – to take control of his own destiny, but he can’t. It’s all in the hands of the Death Eaters who cursed him. Except it’s not quite. If there’s one thing he’s never done it’s give in, no matter how futile a battle he’s fighting.

“I’ll do it,” he says, tone hard and strong. He sounds as tired and afraid as he feels, but it’s that which is fuelling his determination. He won’t let this happen, not to himself and not to anyone else. “Even if it kills me, we have to find them and stop them. Because I won’t do this, not any of it. It’s not happening. You have to stop me, and you have to stop them.” He clenches his fists and looks between Harry and Scorpius. 

Scorpius is watching him. There’s a calculating glint in his gaze, and Albus knows that Scorpius is noticing everything that looks off about the way he’s sitting: the tight set of his shoulders, the lift in his head, the way his knuckles have gone white because his fists are clenched so tightly, tight enough that he can dig his fingernails into his palms, and as hard as Albus tries to correct all those things and make himself not look like everything in the world rests on him being able to do what he wants, he can’t, because nothing can correct what he knows, what he’s seen in his dreams; the fear and darkness inside him. 

Harry rubs his forehead. "I don't understand any of this. I don't understand why they're doing this." He gets to his feet and starts pacing up and down the kitchen. "Why do this to Albus? Wouldn't it have been so much easier just to kill him and get on with killing all these Muggles without any of us knowing?"

"They're Death Eaters," Scorpius says, running a hand across the table top and shrugging. "Maybe they thought it would be fun to bait us." 

Harry shakes his head and rolls his injured shoulder like he's trying to loosen it. "No. They're more sophisticated than that. I'm not going to underestimate them. They've thought this through. They know what they're doing. They want to achieve something here. We just need to figure out what before it's too late." 

Albus rubs a hand across his chest. It’s prickling, tight and uncomfortable. He knows he’s not meant to say a word, but he wants to see what happens if he dares to defy the curse and speak just a tiny fraction of the truth. “I think they really do just... just want to kill all of us too. Anyone who knows anything, anyone who might tell. Anyone who’s tried to help-“ His chest instantly sears with pain and he grits his teeth. “To help Jo.” He ducks his head, not wanting Scorpius to be able to see that anything is wrong, even though he knows it’s futile. 

“It would send the country into chaos,” Harry muses. “Thousands of Muggles and the whole Auror department in one go.”

“I could believe that,” Scorpius says, piling his gaze away from Albus for a moment. “They’d take out Harry Potter too. I bet they’d love that.”

Albus lifts his head, and digs his clenched fists into his pockets. “What If I went in alone?” He asks, shifting away from Scorpius and looking at his dad. “I’m already at risk. That way no one else would have to-“

"No!" The word rings loud through the room as both Harry and Scorpius turn to him and speak at once, matching fierce expressions on their face. 

"But-" 

Scorpius twists round to look at Albus. Even sitting at Harry and Ginny's kitchen table wearing his pyjamas and a dressing gown he looks impressive and imposing, authoritative, just like his dad. The steel in his grey eyes is identical to Draco's, identical enough to make Albus stop speaking immediately. 

"You're _not_ going in alone," Scorpius says. "Don't even think about it." He looks at Harry. "If you want to risk fewer people at least send me with him. I'm a Healer. I have the best chance of taking care of him. And someone needs to get Jo out. I can do that." 

"Your father would kill me, Scorpius," Harry says. "No, neither of you are going anywhere on your own. We're taking a full team." He strides across to Albus and puts a hand on his arm. "Albus, we're coming with you, and we'll keep you safe." 

Albus twitches his arm away from his dad. He looks down at the table top, trying to work out if there’s another way to do this, but he knows there’s not. His dad won’t let him go in alone, Scorpius will always want to come with him, and he can’t stop either of them. He can’t do this without them. Most of all he can’t do this without Scorpius, and that’s his biggest problem right now.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at them both. There’s only one way he can do this. It’s stupid and reckless but it’s the only option; his only chance of defying the darkness coiling inside him. “If we’re all going then I need you to take my wand." He reaches into his pocket and draws it out, careful not to point it at either of them. He turns it handle out and holds it in front of him for one of them to take. 

They both glance at each other. 

"This... isn't a situation you can go into unarmed," Harry says slowly, frowning at Albus. "There could be a duel at any moment. You might need to defend yourself and one of us might not be able to do it..." He glances at Scorpius for back up. "I don't think this is sensible." 

"Why?" Scorpius asks, looking at Albus. "What aren't you telling us? I know the curse is dangerous, but... you need a wand. This doesn't make sense." 

Albus hesitates. He wants to insist, to just shove it at one of them until they’re forced to take it. But neither of them will agree to that. There’s no way he‘ll get away without explaining. He can see Scorpius eyeing him, obviously trying to work out what’s going on in his head before he says it. 

“At the house,” he says softly, voice strained and tight. “When you were talking to Jo, I kept wanting to Hex you, Scorpius.” He glances at Scorpius for the briefest moment, then looks away again. His mouth is dry and he hates the fact that he has to spell it out like this, but it’s the only way. “I tried to give Dad my wand then, but we didn't have time before Evelyn arrived. And... and last night." He swallows hard. "My nightmare." He takes another breath and lifts his head, looking past them both to the opposite wall of the kitchen. "I dreamed that I killed you." 

His eyes flicker towards his dad, and the glimpse of shock in his dad’s face makes him feel sick, so he quickly looks away again. He doesn’t even want to imagine how Scorpius is looking at him now.

“I-it was in that same dream," he continues, staring straight ahead. "The one about all the things that might happen later. So I can't have my wand because I'm afraid that I'll do something terrible, and I'm afraid that I'm not strong enough to stop myself." 

He releases his breath in a shaky stream and looks down at the wand lying across his palms. "I don't want to hurt someone I love. I don't want to hurt _anyone_. I don't know why I'm doing this, why they're making me do this, but I just want to be better. And I don't care if I get hurt because of this, but you're not going to be, Scorpius, because you shouldn’t even be part of a mess like this in the first place. So." He holds his wand out with all the insistence and certainty he can muster. "I'm declaring myself unfit to be armed, and I'm surrendering my wand." 

It’s sheer relief to finally say it, and Albus feels like all the weight in the world has been lifted off him. He’s done the right thing, he knows he has, and he knows his dad will do the right thing too, because for all his bold recklessness he’s sensible and a good leader. He just hopes Scorpius will follow suit, and that his reaction won’t be too painful. 

“Is this why you asked me to heal you?” Scorpius asks, voice shaking, and Albus can’t not look at him. He looks like the world has been swept out from under his feet and he doesn’t know what to do. “Because of this dream?” 

Albus runs his fingers over the rough handle of his wand, picking at one of the knots in the wood. He nods. “I don’t want to-“ He breaks off and swallows hard, looking down at the familiar shape of the wand in his hand, that usually feels so comforting, but now makes him feel dangerous and unpredictable. “If we go in together you’ll all be in danger. They’re controlling me. I won’t be able to-“ He shakes his head, and looks at his dad, begging him to understand and be on his side. “I’m going to-“ He turns his gaze to his husband, and when he does he finally begins to crumble inside. The set of his shoulders collapses and tears well up inside him. He sets his wand down on the table, wanting it as far away as possible, and buries his face in his hands. 

Now they all know exactly what’s going on inside him. Now they know what a mess he is. Maybe they think he’s weak, maybe this represents a flaw in his character, that he can be cursed and manipulated like this. Maybe someone else would be able to fight it, but he just doesn’t see how it can be done, and he doesn’t want Scorpius to die while he’s trying.

“You’re right,” Harry says softly after several long, sharp seconds of silence. “You’re not fit... But you could be. Couldn’t he?” He looks at Scorpius, who glances uncertainly at Albus.

Albus knows it’s more than Scorpius's career's worth – more than his life's worth – to make a false promise about something like this, and he looks up, wiping his eyes, wanting to know what he thinks even though he dreads the response. They were starting to get somewhere yesterday evening after all, so maybe it’s possible. At least they know what they’re trying to counter. If anyone can help him now it’s Scorpius. He’d trust Scorpius with his life, even if he wouldn’t trust himself with Scorpius’s life right now.

“I don’t know,” Scorpius says cautiously. “It won’t be quick or easy. And I’m worried that I might make things worse. I think I did that before we went to Knockturn Alley, by poking around and making Albus more vulnerable...” He looks at Albus, eyes clouded heavy as a foggy day, full of doubt and worry. Albus wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand and sniffs, trying to hold Scorpius’s gaze and tell him something, anything – that whatever he decides and however it goes he won’t have failed, that Albus trusts him and trusts his judgement; that he loves him, plain and simple and without condition, and that none of what’s coming from the curse has anything to do with the way he feels about Scorpius.

“I can try,” Scorpius says after a lengthy pause, and he doesn’t sound as uncertain as Albus was worried he might. He doesn’t sound confident exactly, but he does sound determined. “I _want_ to try. I think it would be better for all of us if Albus is in control of himself when we go and fight later. We could show up and surprise them. It doesn’t mean I _can_ do it, but...” He looks at Albus and nods. “I’ll try my best.”

Harry nods. “I think you should do it.” He looks at Albus. “Are you okay with that?”

Albus looks his husband in the eye and nods, a faint kindling of hope sparking inside him. If Scorpius wants to do this then it’s the right thing to do, and he’s content with that. More than content. “You can do it,” he murmurs, soft enough for only Scorpius to hear. “I know you can.”

Scorpius reaches out and brushes a tear from his cheek, fingers soft and warm. “You need to know,” he whispers, “that if I fail it will probably leave you more vulnerable.”

Albus takes a shaky gulp of air and closes his hand over Scorpius's, squeezing it tight. "I think I'm already pretty vulnerable." 

"You might not be able to fight back," Scorpius warns.

Albus removes Scorpius's hand from his cheek but doesn't let go of it. He turns it over and runs his fingers over Scorpius's wedding ring. "You'll have my wand. I-I won't be able to hurt you or anyone else. You’re stronger than me." 

"But you won't be able to-" 

"Defend myself?" Albus asks, giving a small, tremulous smile. "I won't need to. I'll have you and Dad." 

"But what if we-"

"It doesn't matter," Albus says, letting go of Scorpius's hand and reaching out to touch his cheek instead. "I know I'll be safe. I trust you." 

Scorpius closes his eyes and shivers. “Things go wrong, Albus,” he breathes. “Things happen. In Healing and in duels. I know you know that, but I need you to think about it. Really think about it.” He opens his eyes and looks at Albus, gaze sharp and bright as a blade. “I can’t lose you.”

For the first time in hours, maybe even days, Albus smiles. “You won’t. And I won’t lose you either.” He leans across and kisses Scorpius, soft and steady, trying to convey his unshakeable confidence in his husband. He cups Scorpius’s cheeks with his hands, trying not to leave room for even a fraction of an inch of doubt in Scorpius’s mind of what this kiss means. _I love you. I trust you. You’re brilliant. My life is in your hands and that’s okay. Better that than the other way around._

He hopes that by some magic or alchemy of osmosis that the message will get through, and that Scorpius will absorb Albus’s confidence him. And if not then at least it’s a brain-addlingly good kiss.

Albus is so lost in the familiar but ever wonderful taste and touch of Scorpius’s lips that he forgets his dad is there too, so when Harry clears his throat he jumps and pulls away blushing. 

“O-okay,” Scorpius says, trying and failing to sound businesslike and unflustered. “I suppose I’m doing this then. What time do we have to go tomorrow?”

“Five in the evening,” Albus says, trying to hide his burning face from his dad. “Just after the party starts. That’s when I’m supposed to take you to- you know, where we’re going.”

“We don’t want to get there too early and get pinned down,” Harry says thoughtfully. “If we can find a way to get an advantage without raising suspicions...” He turns on his heel and starts pacing up and down the length of the kitchen. “I don’t know if I trust this place to be accessible.”

“It’s underground,” Albus says, surprised that the words are so easy to get out; he’d expected to have to fight for them. “But there are lots of ways in and out of the area, and it’s... it’s big. Complicated.”

"We could block the exits," Harry says. "Hem them in. Would that work?”

Albus shrugs. “I think so.”

“Alright.” Harry nods and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm going to go to the Ministry and come up with a strategy. I need to gather the troops and fill everyone in on what's happening, and-"

"In the middle of the night?" Scorpius asks. “Harry, you were just injured. You nearly died. You’re meant to be resting.”

Albus nods. “He’s right.”

Harry looks at them, jaw set, expression hard as mossy boulders. "You're cursed, Albus, and neither of you are going to bed. We all have things to do. There'll be time for resting when all this is over." 

Albus and Scorpius exchange a despairing look, and Scorpius sighs and runs a hand over his face before looking up at Harry. “You _should_ be resting,” he says, “but I can see why it would be sensible to have a plan in place. Several plans. Plans and back up plans.” He adjusts to neck of his dressing gown while he thinks. “Can you sleep until nine am?”

“That‘s a couple of hours yet,” Albus points out. “And there’s no way he’ll sleep.”

“At least try and lie down and rest,” Scorpius insists. “Even if you get to the Ministry at ten that would still give you plenty of time to strategise for a situation we know basically nothing about.”

Harry checks his wrist, discovers he's not wearing his watch, and casts a Tempus Charm instead. It's just before eight. "Fine," he says, tucking his wand away. "I'll go in just before ten. We can meet in the Auror office and head out to wherever we're going at five. Does that sound alright with both of you?" 

Scorpius glances at Albus and Albus looks back at him. Nine hours. They have nine hours to do this. Maybe a little more if they’re lucky. 

Albus meets Scorpius's eyes and he nods. "Yes. I'm ready. I'll be ready.”

Scorpius nods too. "Let's do this." 


	8. Boiled Eggs and Aurors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With nine hours to go before the Aurors have to leave for their mission, Scorpius makes a desperate attempt to heal Albus of his curse.

They stay in Harry and Ginny's kitchen, turning their chairs to face each other, so their knees are pressed together and they're as close as they can get. It isn't comfortable, but Albus knows that he in particular is less likely to fall asleep doing this here than he would have been if they'd decamped to the sofa. Even so, he keeps sipping coffee in the hope that it'll get him through until the inevitable adrenaline rush of the raid kicks in. 

Scorpius doesn't have any of his books with him, but it doesn’t take him long to gather what he needs without the need for a time-consuming trip home. He goes upstairs and ransacks the shelves in Ginny's office in order to find one of the ones he's after, and then he orders a couple more from the St Mungo's library. They pop into existence on the dining room table, and Scorpius immediately picks one up and starts riffling through it, while Albus tries to warm his hands around his coffee mug. 

After a minute or so, Scorpius finds his page and smooths the book out flat on the table, weighting it down with a neat little charm so the pages don't flick closed. Then he finally turns to Albus and draws his wand. 

"Do you remember what we were doing last time?" 

"Before Dad interrupted us?" Albus asks. He turns his mug round in his hands and nods. "We were trying to work out what triggers the curse." 

Scorpius smiles. "Perfect. And do you remember what we were about to do next?" 

Albus looks at the book for a prompt. The diagram they'd looked at together just over 24 hours earlier – although it feels like a long distant memory now – is open and it jogs his memory. "We were... going to come up with a Counter-Curse?" He frowns at Scorpius, trying to dredge it up from a time before nightmares and Knockturn Alley and Jo. "Somehow you can find out the right spell from knowing what causes the curse to take effect." 

Scorpius beams at Albus, bathing him in a glorious wash of pride. "Brilliant. I think we know what triggers the curse, so now... we just have to find the right spell." 

Albus nods and leans toward the table, peering at the diagram in the book. "And once we've found the spell... Do you just have to say it and it'll work? How do you even know what the right spell is?" 

Scorpius deflates ever so slightly, shoulders slumping as he leans in next to Albus. "Yes. Well. That's the more difficult bit. Do you remember how I undid that other curse? I sort of have to do that again. But the Counter-Curse comes in right at the end, to make sure everything is dispelled properly. I didn't do it for the first curse because it wouldn't have been worth it with this one still in place, and you weren't in any real danger from me just dispelling that one alone. But now we want them both gone for good, so this time I need the spell." 

Albus leans his elbow on the table and looks at Scorpius. "So... That still doesn't tell me how we know we've got the right spell." 

"You'll know," Scorpius says. "With this model of spell theory it's sort of like a lock and key. If the spell is wrong it won't affect you at all. It won't make the curses worse, you just won't feel a thing. But when we find the right spell you'll feel... I'm not really sure what. People describe it differently, and I've never felt it myself. You'll have to tell me when we're done." 

Albus puts his coffee down and studies the diagram carefully, trying to follow the process. "It says you find the right spell first... but if that's the last thing you need to do why not get rid of the curse then find the spell?" 

"There are lots of different sorts of curses," Scorpius explains, reaching across and turning back a few pages, to show Albus a section on the different categories of curse and their effects. "Some of them are aggressive, if you unpick them they'll come back hard and fast. Some of them are unstable, and if you encounter your trigger again then they'll keep affecting you and they won't let go. Some of them look like they're gone but they can cling on for years. Some of them will even fight back when you try to dispel them. Those ones can kill a patient in seconds. You have to find the spell first or-"

"You might not have time to find it," Albus says softly.

Scorpius nods. "It can take hours, days, sometimes even weeks to find the right Counter-Curse. It's not something you want to leave up to chance. With the sort of curses we work on, sometimes we don't even know what they'll do if we try to dispel them." 

Albus runs his finger down the list of ways a curse can fight back against healing, and he can't help but wonder... "And my curse," he murmurs, glancing at Scorpius. "Do you... Do you know what it'll do when you try and remove it?" 

Scorpius looks him right in the eye and shakes his head. "I have no idea at the moment. I'm sorry." 

Albus swallows and nods, then he turns back to the page with the diagram on, trying to push all the nasty effects out of his head. "Alright. Well, there's no point dwelling on it. And there's no point wasting any more time." He gives Scorpius a brave smile. "Find me a Counter-Curse." 

 

It turns out that spell theory is desperately dull. There seem to be a hundred thousand different options for a spell that does one thing. Scorpius keeps muttering Latin and Greek words that Albus hasn't even vaguely heard of, and all Albus can do in response is say no. Not that one. Nothing. Not even a tingle, Scorpius. I'm sorry. Maybe next time. 

Scorpius is very good at not getting demoralised. Or maybe he's very good at not showing that he's demoralised. Equally likely is that he's used to his job and he does this every single day so it doesn't bother him. It does bother Albus though. The growing sense of failure gets to him. He doesn't understand the spells well enough to know if they're making any process. He gets frustrated, and the exhaustion and uncertainty doesn't help. An hour and a half in he can't take it anymore. 

"Are we actually getting anywhere?" He snaps, raking his fingers through his hair. 

Scorpius looks calmly up at him from the parchment where he's been scribbling options. "This isn't something that happens quickly, Albus." 

"Apparently not." Albus slumps back in his seat and folds his arms. 

He can feel Scorpius eyeing him, but he doesn't look back. He stares sullenly at his knees and tries to tell himself that this is just the curse and his lack of sleep talking, even though he knows it's not really true. The frustration welling up inside him is mostly his own, springing from the unshakeable memory of the nightmare. 

"I'm not a miracle worker," Scorpius says softly. "I'm a Healer." There's a tiny hint of bitter sadness in his tone that immediately makes Albus feel very guilty. He lifts his head and opens his mouth to apologise, but Scorpius isn't done. 

"Do you know how many times I haven't found the right Counter-Curse?" He asks, setting his wand down on the table and picking up his mug of tea.

Albus knows that he should know this. That he should have a perfect memory of all the times Scorpius has come home and curled up on the sofa and cried while Albus has stroked his hair. Of all the times he’s wandered round the house in silence, looking lost, before finally muttering that he's tired and wants to go to bed. Of all the times he's locked himself in his office with his books and studied late into the night – wanting to be better, to know more, so that this never happens again – until Albus has gone to find him and convince him, with varying degrees of success, that he needs to sleep. But Albus doesn't know the answer, because he tries his best to forget those times as thoroughly as he can. 

He looks at Scorpius and shakes his head. "I don't know."

"Eleven times," Scorpius says, running his forefinger over a knot in the wooden tabletop. "And I remember every single one of them... I remember what it felt like the last time the spell failed and I had to watch them slip away in front of me. I remember having to tell their families. I remember the hours I spent after each one, sitting in my office, running through all the combinations I should have tried, all the options I should have prioritised." He looks up and meets Albus's eyes. "Sometimes I still come up with spells I should have tried. At night when I can't sleep, or-" He takes a breath. "I get frustrated too, but we just have to keep going. I'm not going to think about failure until I've failed. We don't have time for that." 

Albus swallows hard and tries to think of what to say. There isn't enough time to talk about what they do at work every day. They mention details, sometimes they talk things over, but during the hours when they're both at home together there are other things to talk about. Those are the hours when they forget all of the difficult stuff. He _knows_ Scorpius’s job is hard. He can always tell when Scorpius is suffering; when he's had a bad day. But he had no idea that Scorpius remembers all that... 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs finally, reaching across and covering Scorpius's hand with his own. "I didn't realise... I _am_ sorry."

Scorpius shakes his head. "Don't be. It's my job." 

"I know, but-" 

"Your job is just the same," Scorpius says, and Albus stops talking because it's true. He can count the number of spells he should have blocked, the number of Shield Charms he should have cast more quickly. Sometimes at night he'll be woken by a scream and a flash of green light in his dreams and he won't be able to catch his breath for a minute. But just like Scorpius, he can never stop fighting, because if he stops then the darkness wins. 

"This is going to take time," Scorpius says. "I hate it but I can't just make it happen." 

Albus nods. "I know. I'm s-" 

"I'm not giving up though," Scorpius says, cutting across his apology. "Not until it's too late. I'll heal you if it kills me." He pulls his pocket-watch out and looks at it. "Six hours and fifty-two minutes. We have time." He puts the watch down on the table so they can both see it, then he raises his wand again and looks at Albus. "Are you ready?" 

 

At Albus and Scorpius's wedding, there was a reading about love. It was one that Scorpius had heard when he was very young and his mum sometimes took him to the Muggle church in the village by the Manor.  It had always reminded him of her, and they both agreed it was something they should try and live up to. 

_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails._

Scorpius, Albus reflects over the next few hours, is both patient and kind. He's methodical and calm and never shows so much as a flicker of frustration. Every now and again he'll ask if Albus is okay, if he's feeling anything from the spells, if he's in any pain. But mostly he remains quiet and professional, and Albus trusts him. Albus trusts that Scorpius knows what he's doing, that he'll find the answer eventually, that he won't fail. 

On the table between them, Scorpius's pocket-watch – one that he inherited from his mum – ticks away the seconds, minutes, hours. The hands are fine and delicate, and the magic woven into the cogs means that it never loses time. Albus has spent hours tracing his fingers over the engravings on the back. He's always found it comforting, when he's upset or tired or worried, and he wishes he could pick it up and run his fingers over the silver-work now, but Scorpius is concentrating so hard, and Albus doesn't want to distract him. 

The hands tick onwards. Ink dries on the parchment as Scorpius scribbles notes. Tea drains from both of their mugs as they take sips both to hydrate and stay awake. Scorpius's voice is beginning to go a little hoarse. Albus's eyelids droop from the warmth of the kitchen and the soft murmur of Scorpius's voice. He pinches himself to stay awake, and decides that he needs to start talking. 

"Do you think you'll pass the watch on?" Albus asks, watching the dial that shows the movements of the constellations shift infinitesimally as the world turns. 

Scorpius looks up from his parchment. "What?" 

Albus nods at the watch. "Do you think one day you'll give it to one of our kids, the way your mum gave it to you?" 

Scorpius stops writing. "I don't know," he says, looking at the watch like he's never seen it before. After a second he gives himself a little shake. "Does it hurt? When you talk about that?" 

There is a niggling little ache building in Albus's chest, but he's holding it at bay for now. "A bit," he says. 

"Maybe this isn't the right time to talk about this," Scorpius says, glancing at Albus then back down at his notes. "It might make you worse. You need to be as well as possible when we leave." 

"Yes," Albus says, "but that's why you're going to heal me. We have four hours left. We have time." 

Scorpius looks at the watch, then he picks his wand up again. "I was thinking about it," he says softly. "Passing it on." He murmurs a couple of words under his breath, then pauses before murmuring a couple more. When nothing happens he bows his head and jots a couple of notes on his parchment. "There are a lot of things I want to pass on, actually. And things I want our kids to experience." He gives a very small smile and looks up at Albus again. "Like when I was little my parents would take me to the bridge over the river at the back of the Manor, and we'd watch the Plimpies, and the frogs. I'd like to take our kids there too." 

"You've thought about this," Albus says, and he can't keep the surprise out of his voice. He just assumed that since Scorpius was still undecided on whether they should have kids, he hadn't thought about what it might be like. 

Scorpius nods and twists his wand between his fingers. "Of course I have. I think about it a lot. I-" He swallows and raises his wand to try out the next couple of spells. They wash over Albus without him feeling a thing. "Sometimes I think about how much I want to come home in the evening to a family that isn't just you but our children as well. I think about teaching them to walk and talk and read and fly. I wonder what house they might be in when they go to Hogwarts. I think about a lot of things, Albus. And I do want children. I just don't know if our lifestyle is conducive to having them..." 

He trails off, but it doesn't seem like he's done, so Albus just sits quietly and waits. He watches a drop of ink blot and then slowly dry on the parchment, from deep, glittering midnight to almost black as it seeps into the page. Scorpius murmurs a couple more spells, which do nothing, writes them down carefully, then starts curling the corner of the parchment up between his fingers. 

"I don't want us to be absent," he says. "I don't want our kids to miss us, or to think we don't care, or... and I don't want to miss anything." He picks his wand up off the table and runs his fingers over the pale pear wood. "It must have been horrible for Mum. Knowing she was going to die, but not knowing when it would happen. Wondering how much she'd get to see of... of my life." He looks at Albus. "I don't want us to feel that. So that's why I'm making the list. That's the only reason." 

Albus bows his head and digs the heel of his hand into the painful spot on his chest. "If we're going to do this, we have to do it right," he says softly. 

Scorpius nods. "We both know what it's like to feel..." He makes a gesture outwards from his heart, and Albus understands all the unspoken words within it. Unloved. Outcast. Misunderstood. Alone. 

"It's not happening again," Scorpius says, in a murmur that's both very soft and very hard all at once. Quiet but solidly determined. "I'm not doing that." 

"No," Albus says, and he knows it's all he needs to say. He knows that they've reached a point where they understand each other, and all that's needed is the silence of resolution. 

Scorpius studies his notes for a moment, silver hair glowing pale orange in the firelight and gentle gold in the midday sunshine that’s now flooding through the window behind them. After a moment he looks up and casts the next spell. Nothing happens. A second spell. Nothing happens. And then a third spell. 

The fact that Albus expects nothing to happen is what makes it such a surprise when something _does_ happen. A soft, glowing warmth falls over him. It feels like when the clouds clear from in front of the sun on a spring day, and you find yourself standing in a shaft of golden light. Warm, but not hot. Just pleasant. With the hint of summer coming. 

He inhales sharply. 

"Scorpius," he says, and his voice comes out a little strained from excitement and relief, and a bit of worry as he tries to calculate how long they have left for Scorpius to break the curse and if it's even possible. 

Scorpius looks at him, and he doesn't seem to understand what he's just achieved. "Are you okay?" 

Albus swallows and nods. "Yes. Just, it worked. That spell. I felt- I feel warm. And- and the pain's gone."

Scorpius stares. "It-it worked? Which one?" 

"The last one you tried," Albus says, and he sounds breathless because there's laughter bubbling up inside him. He lets it out in a hysterical burst and grabs hold of Scorpius's hands. "It worked! You did it! You found the spell!" Then he kisses Scorpius, because he doesn't know what else to do with himself. He takes hold of Scorpius's face and holds him still, and Scorpius flails his hands against Albus's shoulders, trying to get a grip on him, making a small sound of surprise and delight. 

When Scorpius finally manages to grip onto Albus's dressing gown, he pushes him gently away and he's grinning, eyes shining. 

"Okay," he says, sounding as though all the air has been knocked out of him. "Okay okay." He takes hold of Albus's hands and squeezes them tight. "Don't get too excited. We still have to unravel the curse, and- I don't know how long it'll take. I might not manage it in time. We need to calm down." 

He doesn't look like he's calming down, when he's smiling so wide his face has gone all crinkled round the edges, and his eyes are lit up like the stars that were studding the dawn sky beyond the window when they started doing this hours ago, and his cheeks are flushed, maybe from success, maybe from the kiss, or maybe from the fire crackling in the grate. 

He runs his hands up Albus's arms and settles them on his shoulders again. "We have to work fast. Remember how long this took last time?" 

Albus nods. He remembers all too well the afternoon of sitting perfectly still and silent while Scorpius unpicked the knots in his brain. 

"Alright." Scorpius takes several deep breaths and picks his quill up. He carefully writes down the spell he used on a fresh sheet of parchment and underlines it several times. When he's done he sits back and looks at it, memorising it, before he takes hold of his wand and looks at Albus. 

"My hand is shaking," he says, with another tiny smile. "I didn't expect it to work. I thought we would never-" 

Albus reaches across and gently takes hold of his hand, holding it still, so the pear wand is held in both their grips. "I knew you could do it. And you have one of the steadiest pairs of hands I know. You can do _this_ too." 

Scorpius takes another deep breath, then he shakes his head and laughs and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't get excited about this anymore. This is just my job. I'm not supposed to be all-" He exhales and closes his eyes. "I'm happy it worked. You're important." 

"I know," Albus says, and he reaches across to brush a strand of hair off Scorpius's face. "I know. I'm happy too." 

"And you'll be happier when I get rid of this curse," Scorpius says, with what sounds like all the determination he can muster. He opens his eyes and brushes Albus's hand away. "You need to sit still or this will hurt." 

Albus takes a sip of his tea and wriggles into a more comfortable position in his seat. "I'm ready." 

Scorpius adjusts his grip on his wand and directs it at Albus's chest, then he hesitates and lowers it an inch. "Albus... This is going to work better if I can touch your skin." 

Albus looks down at himself. "Are you asking me to strip in my parents' kitchen?" 

Scorpius goes just a little bit pink. "It's a medical necessity, Albus."

Albus smirks. "Is that what you call it?” He shrugs off his dressing gown, pulls his shirt off, then wraps the gown back round his shoulders. Even with the fire going it’s a little chilly in the kitchen thanks to a draft from the window behind them, and he doesn't want to freeze to death. "Is this okay?" 

"Better," Scorpius says, steadying his arm and hand on the table and placing his wand directly over Albus's heart, the tip cool and smooth against his skin. "Alright. Let's heal you once and for all." 

 

Just like last time, it’s not a comfortable process. Sitting perfectly still isn’t easy, and the magic Scorpius is doing creates a feeling like something is picking at his heart and trying to prise it apart. For the first few minutes until he gets used to it, Albus has to take long, slow breaths to stop himself panicking at the sensation and pushing Scorpius away. He does get used to it though, eventually. He has to. This is a long process and there’s no other way.

This curse seems even harder to break than the last one. Albus watches Scorpius’s expression to try and work out how they’re doing, but there’s not much hope there. Scorpius’s face is screwed up tight with concentration and effort, his eyes tight shut, a deep frown lining his forehead. He almost looks like he’s in pain himself, and several times Albus almost suggests that they should take a break. 

After about half an hour, Scorpius finally sits back and rubs his forehead. 

“I think I need some fresh air.”

“Are you okay?” Albus asks, putting a hand on his arm. “You look pale.”

Scorpius nods. “I’m alright.” He runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath. “It’s a difficult one. It’s putting up a fight.” He opens his eyes and gives Albus a thin smile. “It’s as stubborn as you are.”

Albus gets up and walks across to open the window. He pushes it open and a gust of cold air swirls into the room, making the candles on the table gutter, and the fire crackle and flicker in angry retaliation. Albus shivers and hugs his dressing gown around himself as he walks back to Scorpius.

“Are you getting anywhere at all?” He asks, running his hands over Scorpius’s shoulders and leaning down to press a kiss into his hair.

Scorpius rubs his eyes, then reaches back to squeeze Albus’s hands. “I don’t know. I think so, but it’s hard to tell. There’s just...” he sighs and brushes his fingers over Albus’s wedding ring. “There’s so much darkness. It’s hard to know where to start.”

Albus gives a grim smile and wraps his arms round Scorpius, holding him tight. “Welcome to my world.”

“Can you get me some water?” Scorpius asks, looking round at Albus. “I feel a bit-“

“Don’t pass out or anything,” Albus says, immediately releasing him and going to fetch a glass. “Will you be okay to carry on? You don’t have to. I understand if-“

Scorpius shakes his head and takes the glass. “No, I’m fine. I can do this. I have to do this.”

“You don’t-“

Scorpius drains the water, then picks his wand up and gestures to Albus’s seat with it. “Sit. We don’t have that long left.”

Very reluctantly, Albus sits down. He senses that there’s no point arguing when Scorpius is like this, stubborn and unstoppable. And of course Scorpius is right. They really don’t have long. The watch on the table is ticking away relentlessly and time is slipping through their fingers like grains of sand.

Scorpius presses the tip of his wand to Albus’s chest and takes a deep breath. 

“If you need to stop...” Albus murmurs.

“I won’t,” is all Scorpius says in response.

For the next twenty minutes they sit in stillness and silence. Albus holds Scorpius’s right hand and brushes his thumb over Scorpius’s fingers. He studies and admires the sheer concentration on Scorpius’s face. Scorpius still looks a bit pale, but he’s set with determination, and doesn’t seem to notice the strands of hair falling down into his eyes, which are screwed tight shut. Every now and then his expression twitches and flickers, and Albus wonders what he’s thinking, whether things are going well, how hard it is to do the magic he’s currently pouring his whole heart and soul into.

Years ago, before Albus married Scorpius, he thought it would be impossible to put his life in someone’s hands. He’d always thought that if you wanted to be saved you had to save yourself. He was determined and independent and he wouldn’t have been calm about the idea of waiting and watching as someone else worked to make him better. 

But now he discovers that he prefers it this way. There are some things he’s good at, a lot of things he can do for himself, but with something like this he trusts Scorpius with everything he has. He doesn’t know what Scorpius is thinking or doing but that’s okay. He doesn’t need to. As long as Scorpius knows, that’s what matters.

Albus is still staring at Scorpius when the kitchen door creaks open. He jumps, because he’d almost forgotten there was a world beyond the two of them. Scorpius opens his eyes and looks at the door, and Albus turns round too, to see his mum standing there, now dressed neatly in her work clothes. 

“It’s lunchtime,” she says softly. “I popped back to see if you two need anything. Will it disturb you if I make lunch?”

Albus glances at Scorpius, who shakes his head then closes his eyes again.

“No,” Albus says. “You’re okay, Mum.”

She smiles and walks further into the room. “Alright. Do you two want anything?”

Albus realises then that he’s starving. He can imagine Scorpius feels the same – difficult magic takes it out of you. He gives Scorpius’s hand a gentle squeeze to get his attention.

“Do you want anything?” He murmurs.

Scorpius shakes his head without opening his eyes.

“You should eat,” Albus says, brushing his thumb over Scorpius’s knuckles. “It might help you feel better. I’ll even feed it to you.”

Scorpius opens one eye and looks at him. “Maybe just some toast? It doesn’t feel like it should be lunchtime, and I’m not that hungry...”

Albus nods. “You should always eat before a raid.” He turns to his mum. “Some toast, please, and I’d like boiled eggs.”

She smiles and ruffles his hair as she passes by, heading for the stove. “I know your routine, Albus. It’s almost identical to your dad’s.”

Albus gives a sheepish but pleased little smile and turns back to face Scorpius, not wanting to twist out of position for too long and make things harder. 

The silence and stillness is quickly replaced by the gentle domestic bustle of Ginny making brunch. The air is flooded with the smells and sounds of cooking, and Albus closes his eyes and breathes it in. He can feel the now warm press of the tip of Scorpius’s wand over his heart, the rough wood of the kitchen table beneath his arms, the glow of the fire from one side and the cool winter afternoon air from the other, and every now and again he feels his mum brush by him, alighting a hand on his shoulder. 

He doesn’t know if any of this is helping with the spell, or if it’s breaking Scorpius’s concentration, but it’s certainly making him feel more relaxed. It’s almost enough to make him forget the impending doom of the raid and pretend that this is just another day, another afternoon, which he and Scorpius are spending together in his parents’ kitchen while his mum makes them brunch. 

“Here you go,” Ginny says after a few minutes, and Albus hears her put a plate down on the table. He opens his eyes and smiles at her. 

“Thanks, Mum.”

She leans down and kisses him on the forehead. “I hope you two manage to get everything sorted out okay. Be safe later.” She goes over to Scorpius and kisses him too, making him screw his face up but also look exceptionally pleased. “I won’t disturb you anymore. If either of you need anything, I’ll be around for about half an hour before I head back.” She ruffles Albus’s hair as she leaves, and the door clicks softly shut behind her. 

“I love your mum,” Scorpius sighs, eyeing the food on the table between them. 

“Me too,” Albus says, picking up a spoon and cracking open the tops of the eggs. 

“Don’t move too much while you’re doing that,” Scorpius says, and Albus gives him an incredulous look. 

“Is it possible to not move too much? Maybe we should just take a break to eat.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to stop.” He reaches across and nudges the egg cups closer to Albus. “Here, just don’t lean forward too much and it’ll be fine.”

Albus presses his back against the his seat back, so he’s sitting perfectly upright, then he sets about tearing the toast into strips that he can dip into the eggs. 

“My mum used to do that,” Scorpius says, nodding to the toast strips. “A bit more neatly than that, but- boiled eggs and Aurors. The best breakfast.”

“I always think it’s appropriate,” Albus says, gesturing with one of the toast strips. “Before a raid. Even if it’s an evening one.”

Scorpius nods. “Very, definitely.”

Albus dips the end of the Auror into the runny, golden heart of the egg, and holds it out to Scorpius. “Open up.”

Scorpius leans back a bit. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding you, like I said I would. Open up. Or do I have to say it in Parseltongue too?”

Scorpius smiles. “I’d be impressed if you did, but I’m too hungry for messing around.” He opens his mouth and bites off half the bit of toast, nodding and making approving noises as he chews. Albus takes his own bit of toast and munches away in silence. 

The next hour or so is spent in quiet, trading bites of food until the plates are empty and there’s just a smattering of toast crumbs left as evidence of their breakfast. After that Scorpius goes silent, his expression set, forehead creased, and Albus doesn’t dare to say anything more or distract him. He tries to read Scorpius’s expression, to get a sense of how this is going, but it’s impossible. 

Outside the window behind them, the sun begins to sink in the sky. The watery blue of the afternoon is gone now, replaced with a vibrant sunset sky of purple and pink and streaks of orange. There’s new frost sparkling on the window pane behind them as they work, the spiders’ webs woven between the window frames are studded with ice crystals. It must be getting cold out there, but in here it’s warm and relatively comfortable, just the two of them and Scorpius’s magic and Albus’s curse. 

For a while, Albus watches the clock and Scorpius works, his frown deepening with every passing second. Twice Albus suggests that they should take a break, but Scorpius shakes his head and presses on. Albus gets the sense that they’re running short on time. If it is possible for him to be cured now, Scorpius is going to need every single second they have. 

They don’t talk much. Albus doesn’t want to be distracting, and Scorpius is working too hard to even think about speaking. Albus holds Scorpius’s hand – since he can’t say anything he has to find a different way to get across the fact that he’s there, that he still trusts Scorpius, that he knows everything is going to be fine. 

It’s 3pm. Scorpius is still working. The tension mounts.

At 3:30, Scorpius growls and pulls his hand away from Albus’s, running it furiously through his hair. 

“This stupid knot just won’t-“

Albus reaches out and runs a hand down his arm. “Scorpius, you-“

Scorpius brushes his hand away. “It’s fine.” He glances at the clock. “I’m sorry, Albus. I need to concentrate. It’s nearly there.”

Albus feels a new thrill of hope. Nearly there sounds good. Nearly there sounds like they might actually do this.

“Okay,” Albus says. “Okay.” He takes Scorpius’s hand again and squeezes it tight, willing him on, like their collective power might somehow speed this up. 

By 4 Scorpius is bouncing a bit in his seat and muttering under his breath. 

“It’s nearly there. It’s nearly there. I can do this. Come on. _Please_.”

Albus strokes his hand to try and calm him down, but his heart is beating in his mouth and his fingers are shaking, so he’s not sure how calming he’s managing to be. 

The last half an hour is hell. Scorpius is getting more and more desperate by the second, and all of Albus’s hope is draining away. As the second, minute, and hour hand sweep time away as though they’re sweeping Albus and Scorpius’s feet from beneath them, Albus feels a falling sense of desolation in his chest.

It’s not going to happen. He’s not going to be cured. He’ll have to surrender his wand. They’re all going to be in terrible danger – they already are. And he so wanted to be better, to know that he wouldn’t be controlled, that he’d be in command of his own actions.

The hands on Scorpius’s watch hit 4:30pm and Albus feels sick. He buries his face in his hands and tries not to feel heartbroken, tries not to give Scorpius the sense that he’s failed, but it’s impossible. Albus has never felt more helpless. 

Scorpius lowers his wand and looks at Albus. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Albus shakes his head and draws in a deep breath. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m really close to- Another half an hour, and we might have-“

“We don’t have half an hour,” Albus says, and his voice sounds hollow and cold. “We can’t go on the raid like this. We need to get changed and get to the Ministry.”

Scorpius strokes the bare skin on the back of Albus’s hand. “I’ll keep working. When we have a second. Maybe I can still do it. I _know_ I can do it. It’s so close.”

Albus nods and looks at him. “Maybe.”

“I am sorry,” Scorpius says, and he looks broken.

Albus sniffs in a deep breath and shakes himself. “It’s not your fault,” he says. “It’s not. We just didn’t have time.” He lifts his head and reaches out for Scorpius’s hands. 

“I hate time,” Scorpius mutters, glaring at his stop watch. “It’s never been nice to us.”

Albus gives a small sad smile and kisses Scorpius’s knuckles. “I don’t think it’s ever been nice to anyone.”

Scorpius shakes his head. He picks the watch up and pockets it, then he leans forward and wraps his arms round Albus, who squeezes him tight in return. 

“We’ll be okay,” Albus whispers. “We will. I’m an Auror, I know how to do this. And you’re you. You can do anything.”

“I couldn’t cure you,” Scorpius points out. 

“Yet,” Albus says. “You haven’t cured me yet. There’s time. Plenty of time. We just have to make the most of it.” He pulls back and runs his fingers gently through Scorpius’s hair. “We need to get changed and get to the Ministry. Maybe if we move quick enough we’ll have some spare seconds when we get there?”

Scorpius nods and takes hold of Albus’s hand again. “Let’s not waste any more time then. We don’t have any to spare.”

They get up together and Floo back to Serpentine Mews where they change as fast as they can in complete silence, then they Apparate to the Ministry to meet the others.


	9. Under Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With time rapidly running out, a still-cursed Albus tries to lead the Aurors to the location he'd seen in his dream, but Scorpius has other ideas...

“How did you two... get on...” Harry trails off, and Scorpius knows it’s clear from his and Albus’s faces just how frustrated and demoralised they are. Scorpius doesn’t think he’s felt so low in years. It’s like an endless series of dark caverns  have opened up inside him and taken the heart out of him. He feels lost and hopeless, even though he knows he should be trying to stay strong for Albus. There’s still time. It’ll be much more difficult, but it’s not impossible. He has to keep telling himself that.

“Did you get anywhere at all?” Harry asks, looking between them, searching for any hint of a positive. 

Albus glances at Scorpius, and Scorpius looks back at him, not knowing what to say. 

“We found the Counter-Curse,” Albus says, giving Scorpius’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But we ran out of time. It was really just that. Scorpius was doing brilliantly.”

Harry nods and runs a hand through his hair. It’s already sticking up everywhere, wild and stressed, and he’s not helping matters by messing with it more. But it’s one of those days, and Scorpius knows it’s going to get worse before it gets better – if it does get better. 

“Time is the one thing I can’t give you,” Harry sighs. “I’m sorry. Everyone will be here in a second and then we’ll have to get going...”

“I’m going to keep trying,” Scorpius says, looking at Albus. He won’t admit defeat. He can’t. “In any spare second we have. We can find time. How long until the meeting starts?”

Harry checks his watch then glances around the room. “A couple of minutes? Almost everyone’s here now.”

“Then we have a couple of minutes now.” Scorpius draws his wand and gestures to Albus. “Come on. We can’t waste time.”

Albus hesitates for a moment, glancing at his dad, then he shrugs and unwinds his scarf from around his neck. He starts unbuttoning his jacket, but Scorpius shakes his head. 

“No, don’t bother. It’s not as easy this way but I can do it.”

“Alright,” Albus says softly. 

“I’ll call you when we start,” Harry says, then he walks away and leaves them to it. 

Albus hops up on the nearest desk and braces his hands on the tabletop, bowing his head. Scorpius stands in front of him and rests the wand tip against his chest.

“I can try and keep going later,” Scorpius murmurs as he closes his eyes and tries to focus. “I can do this from a distance too, it’s just a lot harder. And I don’t think I can defend myself at the same time.”

He feels Albus’s fingers brush through his hair and shivers, losing concentration for a moment. Albus’s fingers clench tight, and Scorpius withdraws his wand. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I just can’t- If you’re going to-“ 

Albus pulls his hand back. “No, I’m sorry.” He’s silent for a moment, long enough for Scorpius to take a breath and gather himself together, long enough for him to get the incantations working again. 

“I won’t be able to defend you,” Albus says, and his voice catches in his throat. He swallows and settles his hand on Scorpius’s shoulder, and this time Scorpius manages not to lose control. “I’m... I’m scared. I hate this. I’m supposed to be able to protect you. What’s the point of- of everything if I can’t? Not even from myself?”

“I’m supposed to be able to heal you,” Scorpius replies, trying to keep himself steady as he picks away at the darkness. “I think we’re both frustrated here.”

Albus sighs. “Yes, I suppose so. But you could die, all because I can’t-“

“So could you,” Scorpius says. 

Albus’s fingers tighten on his shoulder and a sharp silence falls between them. 

Scorpius draws in a deep breath and squeezes his eyes tighter shut, cutting out every bit of light from the room, so there’s nothing but darkness and Albus’s warm hand on his shoulder and the details carved into the handle of his wand, which bite his skin as he grips it tight. 

Seconds fall away into minutes and it’s not nearly long enough before Harry’s voice carries through the room. 

“Alright, we need to get started.”

Frustrated, Scorpius opens his eyes and blinks against the dazzling light. “I didn’t have time to _do_ anything,” he mutters, almost stabbing himself with his wand as he shoves it back into his belt. 

Albus rubs his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Albus,” Harry calls, beckoning to him. “I don’t know what you can tell us, but we need to know what to expect when we show up wherever we’re going. You said it’s underground?”

Albus glances at Scorpius, and gives his back a gentle sweep with his hand as he reluctantly gets to his feet and weaves his way to the front of the room. 

“I can’t tell you where we’re going, because the curse won’t let me, but I’ll try and give you all as much as I can,” he says. “Dad, can I borrow your chalk for a second?”

Albus catches the chalk Harry throws to him and starts drawing on the blackboard behind him, with strong, bold strokes. He sketches out a very rough map, and starts talking about locations and entrances and terrain. While he speaks, Scorpius draws his wand. 

It’s a waste of time to simply sit here and listen. He’s not an Auror. He won’t get to strategise and make decisions, he’ll just have to follow and do what he’s told. He trusts the others to deal with everything Albus is talking about, but he has another job to do, a job that is now much more difficult, but that he won’t neglect. This is the perfect opportunity to start getting his eye in anyway, while Albus is standing relatively still and they’re both not surrounded by a raging duel. He inhales through his nose, gathering up all his energy and concentration, and aims his wand at Albus’s chest. 

For several long seconds nothing happens. Scorpius can’t feel a thing, and doubt begins to creep in. Is he doing this wrong? It’s been a long time since he did this from a distance. Maybe he’s out of practice. Maybe his technique is off. Maybe he’s not strong enough or competent enough. But then, just as he’s considering breaking the spell and trying again, he feels it. A distant, creeping malice. A mass of darkness embedded within a beacon of light and warmth. Knotted, tangled, seething. Relief floods through Scorpius and he pours more energy into the spell, eager to get to work as quickly as he can. 

At the front of the room, Albus breaks off mid-sentence and gasps, both his hands flying to his chest. He looks at Scorpius, and there’s fear in his eyes. Scorpius doesn’t want to disconnect the spell now it’s working, so he looks Albus dead on and gives him what he hopes is a reassuring little nod. _Keep talking. Everything is fine._

Albus takes several deep breaths, then gives a tiny nod in return and slowly removes his hands from his chest. “Sorry,” he murmurs to the room at large. “Um. A-as I was saying...” He goes on, and Scorpius gives it a moment before he continues with what he was doing. This time he does it with less exuberance, trying to be gentle and careful, so Albus barely feels it. 

It’s not easy. Gentle and careful in this sort of context, with this sort of mess of a curse, pretty much means ineffective. The magic is slippery and tricky, and even though Scorpius has got so far with it overnight, it seems to have become more tangled again over the last hour or so, and the more he works on it now the worse it seems to get. Maybe he doesn’t have the option to be gentle anymore. Maybe he just needs to do this. He’s now in a battle for Albus’s health, and it’s not a battle he’s willing to lose.

He watches Albus intently as he increases the intensity of the spell, trying to spot any sign of pain, or any sign that Albus is being distracted by the war going on inside him. Only once in the next couple of minutes does Albus stumble on his words and glance in Scorpius’s direction. The smallest crease of pain flickers across his face, but he doesn’t pause for long. He draws in a deep breath and presses on, looking right at Scorpius, and Scorpius looks back, trying to instil confidence in him. 

It’s about five more minutes before Albus finishes speaking. When he’s done he looks to his dad to come and take over, and escapes from the limelight, carving a path back through the crowd of Aurors. He still isn’t showing even a flicker of a sign that the spell is getting to him, so Scorpius struggles to keep it going as he walks, deciding it’ll be good practice for later, but he breaks it once Albus reaches his side. Only then, hidden at the back of the room beside Scorpius, does Albus show how badly he’s been affected. 

He wobbles, unsteady on his feet, and reaches out a hand to grip Scorpius’s arm before he falls. Scorpius grabs hold of him and helps him sit. Albus is trembling all over, and when he sinks onto the desk next to Scorpius he bows his head and rubs a hand over his heart. Scorpius wraps an arm round him and squeezes him close. 

“Did it hurt?” He murmurs. 

Albus nods and leans against his side, still shaking, breath coming in hollow snatches. “A bit. More than... more than when we were close together. But it’s okay. I-I understand it’s the only way to heal me.”

Scorpius presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “It won’t let me be gentle. The curse. It’s started fighting back.”

“Maybe...” Albus exhales in a steady, calming stream and runs a hand down Scorpius’s arm. “Maybe it needs to learn that Scorpius Malfoy isn’t someone to be tested. It won’t win. No one and nothing can beat you.”

Scorpius leans his head against Albus’s for a moment. “I truly hope not.”

They sit there in restful silence for about a minute, fingers tangled together, listening to the sound of Harry’s voice as he speaks about something at the front of the room. Then Scorpius sits up properly and glances at Albus. 

“Can I carry on? Do you feel okay?”

“I feel shit,” Albus says. “But that’s not going to change without you doing this, so go for it.”

Scorpius squeezes his hand and gets back to work.

Ten minutes isn’t long enough, but he knew it wouldn’t be. When Harry stops talking, he feels as though he’s just got started, but at least he’s got somewhere. At least he’s chased back a bit more of the darkness, and every fraction of an inch he can win back is a good thing. It’s a start. And it’ll make things easier later.

“Albus,” Harry calls, as Scorpius breaks the spell and lets go of Albus’s hand. “You need to show us where to go. Can you do that?”

Albus nods and slides off the desk, trailing his hand down to Scorpius’s knee, then drawing his wand. “I think so. You and Scorpius can Apparate with me and send a message back to the others.”

“Alright then,” Harry says, looking around at everyone. “Let’s do this.”

 

Albus gasps in a lungful of air as he steps out of crushing darkness into the deserted back street. The only thing stopping him falling to his knees are Harry and Scorpius’s tight grips on his arms. He stumbles sideways into Scorpius, who drops his arm and grabs him round the middle. 

“Alright?” Scorpius asks, making sure he’s steady before releasing him. 

Albus closes his eyes for a moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning, then he nods. “I hate Apparating.”

“I know,” Scorpius murmurs, brushing a bit of hair out of Albus’s eyes.

“Are we in the right place?” Harry asks, putting a hand on Albus’s shoulder. 

Albus looks away from Scorpius and surveys the area around them. “Yes, I think so. I couldn’t Apparate straight there in case anyone saw. It’s about five minutes down the road from here, and you can tell everyone to Apparate to this street. It’s always this quiet.”

The amount of confidence in his voice takes him by surprise. In all honesty he’s not entirely sure where they are or where they’re going, or how he got here. He’s never been to this street before, although he knows the area well. He hasn’t done the reconnaissance to know any of these facts, especially about it being quiet enough to Apparate into, but someone clearly has, because all the information is there inside him. 

He struggles to suppress his panic at the fact that he knows information he really shouldn’t. The dreams had felt bad enough but this is worse. He’s had Occlumency training for Merlin’s sake! This shouldn’t be possible. 

His dad has noticed it too, Albus can tell from the way he’s eyeing him. There’s no denying what’s going on, not that any of this is new information. It just proves the terrifying extent to which the curse has infected him. 

“I think it’s time for you to take my wand,” he murmurs, holding it out to his dad. 

Harry hesitates, then gestures to Scorpius. “I think he should take it. If – _when_ – he heals you, he’ll be able to give it back straight away. And if I hold onto it it’s far more likely to get damaged somehow.”

Albus turns to Scorpius. “I trust you with it. Go on.”

Scorpius hesitates for a minute, staring at the wand. “But if he takes it, then-“

“One of you has to take it!” Albus’s voice bursts out of him, with more anger than he’d meant it to. His words ring through the street, leaving a long silence behind them. Albus takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” he says, a lot quieter, tone still brittle. “I just want one of you to have it. I don’t care who. So can you decide?” He rubs his chest while he waits.

Scorpius and Harry look at each other. Their argument is utterly silent but very intense, and finally Scorpius’s shoulders slump. 

“Fine,” he says. “Fine, I’ll take it.” He stretches out both hands to Albus, looking shaky and uncertain. Albus doesn’t really know how best to hand it to him, he’d expected him to just take it, but there’s a reverence and fear in Scorpius’s eyes that he hadn’t been ready for, so at a loss for what to do he lies the wand flat across both Scorpius’s palms. In a strange flash of recognition he remembers how Scorpius had looked exactly the same when his dad had handed him Delphi’s wand after the battle with her all those years ago – full of terrified awe and respect – and Albus’s heart clenches. Is his wand now such a dangerous artefact as hers?

“I promise I’ll take care of it,” Scorpius murmurs after a moment, glancing up at Albus. “I know it’s... You know. I know it’s everything.”

Albus resists the urge to snatch it back from him. He balls his hands up into fists and stuffs them into his pockets, nodding. ‘Everything’ is a good way to say how important a wand is. He’d be lost without it. He _is_ lost without it. But it’s okay. He’ll be okay. It’s better this way. 

“You should call the others,” he says to his dad. “Tell them where to come to. A-and then I’ll show you...” He looks down the road in the direction of their battle ground, and a terror that doesn’t come from the curses but is completely his own grips him. “I’ll show you where we’re going.”

Harry sends a Patronus message back to the ministry, then the three of them set off walking down the road. Scorpius sticks close by Albus’s side, and every few seconds their fingers brush together. Albus can’t tell if Scorpius is doing it deliberately or not, but it’s comforting, and he can’t complain in the slightest. Those featherlight touches are helping to keep him together now, reminding him of who he is and what he needs to do. 

They reach a main road that’s usually packed with cars and buses, but which today is full just with people, and lined with heavy metal barriers. There are already dozens of people wandering down the road in the direction of the big square up ahead, talking and laughing, oblivious to any danger. They’re all wrapped up in coats and scarves and gloves and hats, and in the gathering winter dusk they look like moths fluttering towards the bright beacon of the square. 

There’s a tiny gap in the barriers and Scorpius crosses the pavement to step through, but Albus catches his arm to stop him. 

“We’re not going to the square.” He bumps his knuckles lightly against Scorpius’s arm to direct him straight down the pavement. “We’re going to the-“ His voice catches in his throat, so he swallows and tries again. “We’re heading towards the station.”

The further down the street they get, the more the road beside them is thronged with people. It’s just under two hours until the party starts, but already there are people dancing to the distant throb of the music, and a handful of young women sprint past carrying fluorescent glow sticks that would put even the most brilliant Lumos spell to shame. Several tourists stand on the pavement and stare curiously at the crowd and a couple more are reading the signs explaining why the roads are closed. There’s a strange clash between the people who are here for the party and the people who are looking at proceedings as an interesting tourist attraction. They don’t quite fit together, but they’re both in equal danger.

Several Muggle policemen are lining the pavement or strolling around keeping an eye on proceedings, answering questions and showing people where they can go to cross the road. When no one is talking to them they mutter to each other, and Albus isn’t sure if he’s projecting, but he thinks they look nervy and on edge. They’re right to be, Albus thinks, but there’s nothing they can do about the threat they’re facing. That’s up to Albus, and Scorpius, and the rest of the Aurors. 

“Are we going into the station?” Harry asks. 

Albus nods, and his chest twinges, but maybe the curse knows that this is it. He’s doing his job, so there’s no point in really hurting him. That wouldn’t serve the purpose of whatever the Death Eaters are trying to do. They need him, and they need him whole and functional. At least physically.

“Won’t the station be full of people?” Scorpius asks.

Albus opens his mouth to answer that, but the words get stuck in his mouth, so he just nods. 

“So how are we supposed to...” Scorpius trails off and shakes his head. “I suppose I’ll find out.”

They weave through the crowds in silence, until they reach the front of the station. Albus tugs on Scorpius’s sleeve and leads him down a set of steps into the Underground. Harry doesn’t go with them straight away, instead he pauses at the top of the steps, waiting to show his Aurors where to go. The curse notices right away that Harry isn’t there. Pain blossoms in Albus’s chest, strong enough to make him sink to the ground and bury his face in his knees. 

Scorpius is immediately at his side. “What happened? Did we do something wrong?”

“Dad,” Albus groans. “I think we need Dad.”

“He’s coming, he’s-“ He looks up the stairs. “Harry,” he shouts, and several Muggle passers-by turn to stare at him. A second later Harry appears at the top of the stairs. 

“What is it?” He calls. 

“We can’t go any further without you.”

Albus lifts his head and looks up at his dad. “I’m not allowed anywhere unless I bring you with me.”

Harry glances over his shoulder. “I need to show everyone where to go.”

Scorpius glances down and meets Albus’s eyes. “I could do it...”

Albus knows it’s true. It’s easy to give people directions. Scorpius may not be an Auror but he can do that. Except Albus wants him to come. Scorpius makes him braver. Scorpius is his hope here, and if they go without him absolutely nothing good can come of it.

“Can we...” Albus gulps in a breath as some of the pressure on his lungs eases – his dad is right there. He’s doing his job. “Can we wait and all go together?” He asks. 

Harry ruffles a hand through his hair and glances over his shoulder. “It’ll be better to all go in together anyway. I don’t want anyone getting left behind or cut off. Especially if they’re waiting for us.” He looks at Albus and there’s a question there, but Albus doesn’t know if anyone is waiting for them. He’s not party to that sort of strategy. All he knows is that he can feel something dark buried deep in his chest that’s pulling him deeper into the station.

“We can’t let them trap us all either,” he says, because he doesn’t trust himself now. He doesn’t know if the instinct to keep everyone together belongs to him or the curse controlling him.

Harry nods, and Albus hopes he’s nodding because he understands. He turns away to talk to someone at the top of the stairs, then a minute later he and handful of the other Aurors come rushing down to join Albus and Scorpius. The second Harry is back beside him, Albus can breathe again, and it feels wonderful.

“We’re splitting,” Harry says. “It’s safer, and draws less attention to us. Where are we going now?”

Albus drags himself to his feet, using his dad as a support, and looks around. He’s been here before – everyone in London must have been here before – but it’s a confusing maze of people and ticket barriers and tunnels, and all he can do is hope that the curse shows him where to go. Thankfully – although he’s not sure thankfully is the right word – as he looks around a spark of recognition ignites inside him and he nods down the steps. 

“This way,” he says. “We need to get inside the station.”

They all set off down the rather eerie steps. The lights on the walls and overhead flicker, and their voices echo, and even though they’re surrounded by partygoers and commuters it still feels forbidding and more than a little bit dank. A couple of the Aurors making casual conversation among themselves in an attempt to blend in with the crowd. Harry is utterly silent, but the combination of his suit and harassed look make him blend in anyway. 

Scorpius too is silent. He keeps his hands in his pocket and looks down at the ground as they walk, clearly lost in thought. Albus has always been able to tell when he’s thinking about something. He gets a little glint in his eye, and it’s there even now when he looks so somber. 

Albus bumps his shoulder against Scorpius’s, making Scorpius glances at him. “Okay?” Albus asks.

Scorpius nudges him back. “I’m supposed to be asking you that question.”

Albus shakes his head. “All I have to do is not fuck up. I know it’s _me_ we’re talking about but I should still be able to manage it. You have bigger things to deal with. Me, Jo, everything...”

“You won’t fuck up,” Scorpius tells him, confident and sure. 

“Neither will you,” Albus replies, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it tight. 

Scorpius smiles and nudges him. “It’s been a long week. I’ll be glad when this is over. I might need a holiday.”

“Dad owes us one,” Albus says, glancing over his shoulder in his dad’s direction. “He said so.”

“And I intend to hold him to that." Scorpius uncurls and curls their linked fingers, and strokes his thumb over the back of Albus’s hand. “I think we both need a rest. A good long one. Several lie ins. Maybe a trip to that bakery... But definitely no stress. In fact, I think I might prescribe it for us. Healer's orders." 

Albus smiles. "I hope you have a good dictionary handy. I don't think Dad knows the meaning of rest." 

"Don't worry," Scorpius says. "I'll teach him." He pauses in his stride and looks at Albus, and Albus stops too, staring at him. "I love you, you know that? With everything I've got. You're brilliant, and brave, and strong, and once we've made it through today I'm going to find a way to show you just how much." 

Albus can't help but smile at that. "Are you? Is that a promise?" 

Scorpius nods. “Yes it is.” He brushes his fingers across Albus’s cheek, then leans down and kisses him. 

Albus closes his eyes and wraps his arms round Scorpius as he kisses back. It feels so familiar and so right, and Albus clings to that feeling even once they’ve let go. This is the first time in a while that his heart has felt completely his own. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

 

There’s a new fire in Scorpius’s eyes. He’s blazing, and it warms Albus’s heart and gives him a tiny bit of confidence as they bewitch the ticket barriers and slip further into the Underground. Scorpius has his wand out again, and even while they’re walking, Albus can feel him working away at the curse. 

The deeper they go, the greater the battle grows inside Albus. Darkness clashing with light and love. But Scorpius is winning. For the first time in hours Albus is flooded with hope, and he feels brave enough to open up to where the curse is telling him to go, because without its instruction he’d be wasting time wandering around the station. 

“It’s this way,” he murmurs, when they reach the bottom of the escalators, nudging Scorpius sideways and gesturing away down one of the tunnels. 

His footsteps echo as he starts walking. Everyone watches him go, only following once he’s clear of the group. Even Scorpius hangs back now, near the back of the group, like he can sense the danger is nearer. Albus feels a sudden pang of loneliness and isolation. He’s completely alone with his curse, and everyone else is relying not on him but on _it_. He’s useless here. Everything about him is useless. He can’t fight for himself, he can’t control himself, he can’t choose his own fate. All he can do is walk until the curse tells him to stop, and hope that when he does stop nothing terrible comes of it. 

It’s silent apart from echoing footsteps and the steady beat of Albus’s heart thumping in his ears. Once or twice he hears someone whisper something behind him, but mostly they all just walk. Aurors don’t talk much when they’re working. They rely on every single sense – touch as a first indicator of enchantments nearby, smell and taste to search for poisons and gases, sight to look for anything that seems out of place, and sound for when the enemy gives themselves away with a movement or a murmur. 

When he comes to a metal doorway in the wall, he stops and glances back. “We have to go through here.”

“Are we allowed?” Scorpius asks, eyeing it from a distance. He’s still floating at the back of the group.

“We’re Aurors,” Albus says. “We’re allowed everywhere.” He looks around for Harry and gestures to the gateway. “We need this open. We’re going in here.”

Harry gives the gate a dubious look. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely one hundred percent,” Albus says, shifting closer to the door to try and see through the slits in the metal and get a glimpse of what’s in the darkness beyond. 

It’s impossible, the blackness down there is impenetrable. There’s not a speck of light or movement. They could be walking into anything. Except they at least know the principles of what they’re walking into. That helps. A little bit.

Harry glances around to check no Muggles are watching, then he flicks his wand at the gate and it creaks slowly open.

The gate opening doesn’t make the tunnel any brighter or more inviting. Everyone stands on the spot and stares in, no one making any move to lead the way. 

“Where does this go?” Harry asks after several long, silent seconds. “Is it a dead end down here?” He draws his wand and waves it into the tunnel. “It is a dead end. Albus, I don’t know if-“

“This is the right way,” Albus snaps, a wave of frustration and annoyance breaking inside him. “Does it matter whether it goes anywhere?”

“It matters,” Harry says calmly, “because I don’t want to lead us into an ambush.”

“So leave people here to cover the exit,” Albus says, trying to mask the sarcasm in his voice but not doing a very good job. It should be obvious what needs to be done here. They have to follow the curse. Why does his dad not see that?

“I said I wasn’t going to have us all split up,” Harry says. “And if they come with enough forces to fight the lot of us they’ll easily overpower a couple of door guards. No, we need to think about this before we go anywhere. Maybe there’s somewhere we can hide and wait so we can ambush them, or-“

“There’s a door open,” Scorpius says suddenly. “At the bottom of the escalators there’s a door ajar.”

Everyone turns to look at him, and Albus feels a sudden, intense burst of fiery anger rise up inside his chest. 

“No,” he says, in a voice that rings through the momentarily quiet corridor. “We’re not going down there. _This_ is the right way. No one goes through that door. Understand me? No one.” Even to his own ears he sounds authoritative but also panicked, and the second he’s finished speaking he knows what’s going to happen next. 

“Scorpius,” Harry says, “show us this door.”

“It was open when we came down,” Scorpius says. “But it’s definitely not meant to be.” He gestures back down the tunnel behind them. “It’s this way.”

“Come on,” Harry murmurs, and everyone starts following him. 

A new surge of panicked anger sweeps through Albus, and he kicks his door shut and barges through the group to get to Scorpius. 

“What are you doing?” He hisses. 

“Trying to help Jo,” Scorpius says coolly. “And trying to help you.”

Albus clenches his fists. “I don’t need your help.”

“Yes, you do.” Scorpius glances across at him. “We’re going this way first, and if there’s nothing there then we can go your way. But I want to check. Okay?”

It’s not okay. Not even a little bit. But there’s a steel in Scorpius’s expression that says he will not be argued with, and Albus knows better than to try. Instead he sticks by Scorpius’s side and shadows him, ready to act if Scorpius does something he shouldn’t.

They turn the corner back into the space at the bottom of the escalators into the station, and Albus sees that Scorpius was right. There _is_ a door ajar, one that shouldn’t be, and one that Albus knows they absolutely should not be going through. He opens his mouth to start protesting, but Harry gets there first. 

“Does anyone know where this goes?”

Scorpius nods. “My mum brought me down here on a tour when I was little. There are abandoned stations down there. The trains don’t run this way anymore.”

“So definitely not somewhere a door would have accidentally been left open,” Harry says, hand in his pocket. Albus knows he’s fingering the handle of his wand. 

“No,” Scorpius says softly. 

Harry nods. “Let’s go then.”

They pass through the door in single file, Harry leading the way. As they step into the darkness they all light their wands, apart from Scorpius, who pauses just inside the tunnel and starts patting around at the walls. 

“What are you doing?” Albus hisses at him. It’s a bit cold in here, and someone has pulled the gate shut behind them, so it feels like a prison. An endless, black prison. 

Scorpius doesn’t answer, but a second later there’s a series of clicking sounds, as all along the tunnel Muggle electric lights flicker into life, bathing the space in a dull orange glow.

“Now we can see,” Scorpius says. “And it looks a lot less scary.”

He’s right. The space looks bigger in the light, and far less claustrophobic. The roof seems higher now it’s lit, the area wider. Albus can see the escalators running downwards toward a corridor that must lead towards platforms.

They all stand and look at their surroundings for a moment, and it’s very very quiet. Then Scorpius inhales sharply.

“I can hear something,” he breathes, and Albus glances at him. He’s frozen in place, staring in the direction of the set of abandoned, unmoving escalators. For a moment there’s total stillness and quiet among the group, and in that empty second Albus hears it. The sound of a sob in the distance. A child crying. 

“It’s Jo,” Scorpius says, looking right at Albus, then he turns and starts walking towards the escalators without a second’s hesitation. 

“Scorpius,” Harry hisses. “Come back. We should stick together.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “No! She’s crying. They might be down there with her. We need to help her.”

Albus, in a mad moment that he knows belongs completely to himself, runs after Scorpius. He shouldn’t go down there alone. There could be anyone down there. Someone could be waiting with Jo just in case. But as soon as he’s thought that, he’s seized by a new compulsion: to follow Scorpius because he cannot he allowed to fight whoever is down there, or interfere with the girl in any way. 

“Stop,” he says, voice ringing sharply through the space as he grabs Scorpius’s arm to try and pull him back. 

“No,” Scorpius says, with the sort of intense calm that only he can possess. “Jo is down there and she needs our help. If we can keep her calm then there’s no danger to anyone.”

“I won’t let you go,” Albus says, tightening his grip on Scorpius’s arm. 

Scorpius holds his wand out between them, and Albus can feel warm magic inside him, meddling with him and helping him. It feels so good and so awful all at once, and it takes everything he has not to rip the wand out of Scorpius’s hand and turn it back on him. 

“I’m armed,” Scorpius says, “you’re not. You can’t stop me.” He eases his arm from Albus’s grip and walks away. Albus follows him. 

“This is the right way,” Scorpius barks over his shoulder at the others. 

They all glance at Harry, who nods and gestures for them to follow. 

The escalators they go down are unmoving, and rusted from their years of disuse. Albus isn’t sure they’d move even if someone turned them on. 

There’s an unease amongst the party as they descend. Albus can feel everyone watching him like he’s unpredictable; he feels unpredictable himself. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, what they’re going to find down there, what anyone else is going to do to him. All he knows is that he wants to stick as close to Scorpius as he can, and that he needs Harry close by too. 

At the bottom of the escalator Scorpius pauses for a moment, then he turns right and goes darting out onto a long, dark platform, with Albus and the others chasing behind him. 

They all stop when Scorpius stops, catching their breath, listening. It’s too dark to see much on the platform, so Scorpius gives his wand a flick, and white light floods the space, casting long shadows, and creating enough brightness that they can see in the distance the faint shape of a small, hunched figure. 

“Scorpius?” Jo whispers, voice hoarse and rasping. 

“Jo,” he breathes, and he starts walking towards her, slow at first, but speeding up until he’s running down the platform to her. When he gets there he throws himself on the ground and hugs her, and she hugs him back and buries her face in his shoulder. 

Albus clenches his fists in his pockets. He wants to drag Scorpius off her. He wants to get him as far away from her as he can. He wishes he had a wand so he could hex Scorpius into pieces, but he doesn’t, and... and maybe that’s okay. A weird sense of calm settles inside him. It won’t be long before they can put a stop to it. They’ll eradicate the Healer and the plan will go smoothly from there. 

“You left me,” Jo whispers, pulling away from Scorpius and looking up at him. The two of them are bathed in a pool of white light from Scorpius’s wand, and Jo looks even more thin and sick with the shadows pooling on her hollow face. “Before – you said you were going to help but you left.”

Scorpius swallows. “I-I know,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Jo. My- Albus and Harry nearly died. I had to save them, or we wouldn’t have had a chance of saving you. But we’re back now. We’re not leaving without you this time. I promise.”

“Do you?” She asks, and the slight misgiving in her voice feels like hope to Albus. As long as she doesn’t believe in Scorpius’s spiel, as long as she doesn’t trust him fully, then this fight will be a lot easier. 

Scorpius nods, and Albus can see that it’s full of every ounce of conviction he has. “I do.”

Jo looks at him for several long seconds, then she wipes her nose on her sleeve and nods. “Okay.”

“Is there anyone here with you?” Scorpius asks, voice soft and urgent. “Is Evie here? Or any of the others?”

Jo shakes her head. “They left me in the dark. They said they’d come back and get me later. But they haven’t come back yet, and-“

“Yes we have,” comes an ice cold voice from the platform entrance behind them. “Apparently just in time to join the party.”


	10. The Perfect Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Albus fully under the influence of the curse, Scorpius is going to heal him or die trying...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a bit late! It's been an absolutely hectic week. Hopefully a bit of angsty drama will make up for it! 
> 
> Thanks as always to the wonderful Abradystrix for betaing.

Scorpius looks up, past the group of Aurors, and sees Evelyn Rowle and ten other Death Eaters, all blocking the entrance to the station, the only escape route he’s spotted. His insides go cold, and he shifts his body in front of Jo, so he’s a solid barrier between her and Evelyn. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers to her, because he can feel her shaking, and even without looking he knows she’s turning to smoke round the edges. “It’s alright, she’s not going to touch you. Not today.”

“We weren’t quite expecting to find you here,” Evelyn says, stepping forward from the group and looking around. “But I think I almost prefer this. It’s quite a nice setting.” She strides right into the heart of the pack of Aurors, who seem so shocked by her boldness that they step back. She approaches Albus, who seems to be frozen to the spot, staring at her. When Scorpius twitches his wand and connects to him he can feel the curse boiling and raging inside Albus like a storm, and he’s immediately buffeted away. “Thank you for your excellent improvisatory work, Albus,” she says, reaching out and stroking a finger down Albus’s cheek. “You’ve done well.”

A shudder runs through Albus’s body, from head to toe, and Scorpius sees his posture stiffen, until he’s straight-backed, head up, arms snapped to his side. The perfect soldier, ready to do his master’s bidding. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome,” Evelyn says, patting him on the cheek. “Now. How do you all feel about standing there quietly and letting us get on with what we’re doing?”

“If you dare hurt my son, I’ll kill you,” Harry says, in a low voice that trembles with pure rage.

Evelyn smiles. “No, I thought that might be the case. I suppose we’ll have to do it the hard way then.” She raises her hand, gestures to the Death Eaters, who close in around the Aurors, ready to seize them, and that’s all it takes for battle to commence.

In an instant the darkness is lit with streaks of bright light of every colour: green and red and blue and gold, and the sounds of shouted spells and misfires gouging bits of concrete from the platform fills the air. Scorpius can see Albus closing in on Harry through the maelstrom of magic, face blank, utterly unperturbed by the fact that Harry is armed and he’s not. There is no way, Scorpius thinks, that Albus is getting out of this situation alive, unless he’s healed. It’ll be a lot more difficult with a battle raging, but he has to try. He points his wand at Albus and starts the incantation, but no sooner than the first words have left his mouth, a bolt of scarlet light comes shooting towards him, and he finds himself embroiled in a battle of his own. 

The Disarming Charm hits just as Scorpius gets his shield up. Scarlet sparks explode in an arc above himself and Jo, and Jo screams. The pressure of her hands clinging to him from behind vanishes in an instant, and he knows she’s turned to smoke. 

“Jo,” he calls over the noise of the battle, searching around for her. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I can protect you.” It takes him a second before he spots her. She’s a small cloud of black smoke right now, churning up by the ceiling of the platform, almost right above his head. He knows Evelyn has spotted her too, so he expands his shield into a wall between himself and Jo and Evelyn. He won’t let her through. 

“I know it’s loud,” he says, twisting round to look up at Jo, “I know you’re scared. That’s okay. But you’ll be safer down here, I promise you. I don’t want- I don’t want you to-“ He breaks off, briefly distracted by the battle, as a stray Disarming Charm hits Harry straight on, and his wand goes spinning out of his hand and Albus plucks it from thin air. 

All Scorpius’s words, and his thoughts of helping Jo, die inside him as he watches Albus stride towards Harry, wand pointed right at his dad’s chest. There’s a brief pause in which it looks like just a threat, but then Albus starts shooting spells, and Harry starts dodging, almost dancing, from side to side. It’s only a matter of time before he‘s going to get hit.

Scorpius needs to be helping, he knows that. He needs to be trying to fight back the curse inside Albus and stopping him from attacking anyone on their side, but Jo is still swirling round and round overhead, and she seems to be getting more and more agitated as concrete dust fills the air and the fight keeps raging. If anything happens to Jo then this is over for all of them. So maybe the best thing right now is for Harry to hold Albus at bay until Jo is calm, and then heal Albus from there. It’s the only option Scorpius can see. 

He has a second wand he remembers, as he stares helplessly at Harry and Albus, knowing what his priority needs to be, but still wishing he could be doing something else. Harry is disarmed, and Scorpius has both his own and Albus’s wands. It won’t be getting Harry his own wand back, but it’s better than nothing.

“Harry,” he yells, as loud as he can, and Harry glances up as he dives to the ground to avoid one of Albus’s spells. “Catch!” Scorpius plucks Albus’s wand from his belt and throws it as hard as he can up the platform towards Harry. 

Harry leaps up and sprints to catch it before it hits the ground, then he instantly turns on his heel and starts duelling Albus.

The pair of them disappear in a hailstorm of spells. The speed and ferocity with which they’re fighting isn’t like anything Scorpius has ever seen before. They’re two of the best, and neither of them is playing around or practicing now. This is real. 

Scorpius is still staring horrified at the ruthless, unfamiliar expression on Albus’s face as he slings spells at his dad, when he’s startled back to reality as a spell from Evelyn hammers into his shield, nearly shattering it thanks to his lack of concentration. He scrambles to hold it up, as Jo startles and ricochets off the ceiling, sending chunks of plaster raining down on Scorpius. He covers his head with his arm and ducks down, sending a hopeful Stunning Spell at Evelyn, who dodges out of the way like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

Jo is starting to rage. She’s swirling round and round, faster and faster, bits of smoke punching off in erratic trails, sending more plaster and bits of tile and concrete flying all over the place. The noise of the battle echoing off every wall can’t be helping. The sound is deafening, overwhelming. It’s almost too much for Scorpius – he can’t hear himself think – so it must be absolutely horrifying for her. He needs to get her somewhere quieter, calmer. He needs to be able to talk to her. But there’s no way of getting her to follow him. When she’s like this she’s controlled only by her anger and fear. He’ll have to improvise. 

Another spell from Evelyn hits, rippling across his shield, and he knows he doesn’t need to worry about her. She’s not that strong. He can hold her off while he concentrates on Jo. 

He takes a deep breath and waves his wand in a circle, marking out the boundary of the shield. “Silencio.”

Instantly the sounds of the battle go dead. It’s quiet inside the shield. Scorpius can hear his own breathing, but that’s it. Jo has gone perfectly still, listening to the quiet, and Scorpius seizes the opportunity. 

“Jo,” he murmurs. “Can you come down? I’d like to talk to you. I want to help you, and I don’t think I can do that when you’re up there.”

The smoke gets more solid, and he stares up at it, hoping he’s not imagining things. “I-I promise you’re safer down here. It’s better for you. Being- being up there is hurting you. They’ve already hurt you so much. I know they have. And... and if you’re up there then other people might get hurt too.”

The smoke trickles down to the ground where it pools into the shape of a small, hunched figure. She looks insubstantial, not quite solid, and her features are blurred, but he can hear her gulping back broken sobs. 

“I-I killed...” she wipes her hand across her eyes and draws in a deep breath. “There were some people and I hurt them. Some- some people like you. I-I remember there was all this light and sound and I was scared and I got upset and... I don’t know what I do when I get upset.” She looks up at him, and he can see the trace of wet, terrified eyes staring at him. “People get hurt. Like when Evie gets upset and I get hurt.”

Scorpius’s heart feels like it’s being torn in two, and he kneels on the ground opposite her and shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not like that. It’s not your fault. I promise it’s not your fault.”

She curls in on herself and cries even harder, form swirling like vapour. The dark inner part of Scorpius that he always tries to suppress screams at him to turn around and kill Evelyn, to rip her limb from limb for everything she’s done to Jo and to Albus. It would be the least she deserves. But instead he takes a deep, shaking breath, and shifts closer to Jo across the ground. 

“Evie is a bad person, I know you know that. She’s awful, and- she’s to blame for all of this, not you. I want you to understand that. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Jo gives a little hiccup of a sob, and he can tell that she doesn’t believe him. It’ll take more than a few words to reverse the years of believing that she’s everything that’s wrong with the world. There’s no spell that can fix that. 

Scorpius swallows back tears and reaches out to her. “Jo, can you-“

She looks up at him, and he breaks off as he sees her expression transform into one of pure terror. “Scorpius,” she breathes, then she vaporises into blackness as Scorpius’s shield shatters into a million pieces, and someone hits him hard from behind.

He’s bowled forward into the space that Jo had occupied just an instant before, slamming his left shoulder hard against the floor and dropping his wand. He rolls over and scrambles to defend himself, patting the floor with one hand to try and get his wand back, and fighting with the other to keep hold of his attacker’s wrist and stop them casting any spells at him. The first thing that becomes apparent is that his attacker is physically stronger than him. The second thing that becomes apparent is that he’s fighting Albus, an Albus who is here to fulfil the prophecy of his dream. 

Albus’s emerald eyes are burning with a terrifying fire. He doesn’t look like himself. Where there’s normally humour or determination, now there’s only malice. It’s like all the humanity, and everything that makes him Albus, has been stripped away. It’s easy to fight Albus with the intent of saving him, because Scorpius isn’t really fighting Albus at all. He’s fighting the thing that’s inhabiting his husband’s body. 

He gives up on trying to find his wand and instead holds onto Albus’s arm with both hands. Even then he’s barely strong enough to keep him at bay. Scorpius has always known that Albus was physically stronger than him, but he’s never before had it tested like this. His hands and arms shake with the effort of keeping Albus’s wand directed away from him, and he looks around desperately for help. Harry was fighting Albus before; where’s he gone?

Jo is spreading across the ceiling, tendrils of black smoke spiralling and swirling. She’s getting more agitated and erratic, and she’s beginning to tear swaths through the battle, sending duellers scattering out of her way. Scorpius thinks of bodies, seemingly unharmed apart from the criss-cross scars on their faces, he thinks of the party somewhere overhead, and then the side of Albus’s wand presses hard into his throat, making him cough and gasp for breath and stop thinking about anything other than the fact that his husband is trying very hard to kill him. 

“Albus,” he chokes. “Stop.”

He scrabbles his hands around, trying to grab the wand and push it away. There’s no one coming to help him. He can’t see much when his vision is blocked by Albus’s malevolent face, full of clinical intent, but he can see the sparks and colours from the other duels. Everyone is engaged in their own battles, even Evelyn now. Which means that this is how he dies. Alone and unnoticed; at Albus’s hand. And when he does, no one will be left to save Albus and help Jo.

“Please,” he rasps, barely managing to get the words out past the painful, bruising, suffocating pressure. He doesn’t think Albus even hears him. 

The world starts to dim around the edges. There’s not enough air. He pushes weakly at the tip of the wand but it doesn’t budge an inch. Albus is unwavering. The edges of his vision turn to stars, and he gives his feet a feeble kick attempting to aim for Albus’s shins, but it doesn’t help. He closes his eyes and resigns himself to oblivion. 

Then the pressure lifts, Albus’s wand impacts hard against his chin, snapping his head back, and all of Albus’s weight collapses on top of him. He gasps and coughs and rolls over, dragging himself out of the way and clawing across the platform. There’s still not enough air, but what he does manage to drag into his lungs is sweet and life-giving and blissful. His throat feels raw and painful, and he’s not sure it’ll ever be the same again, but he’s alive. Somehow. 

“Are you okay?” A hand grabs Scorpius’s wrist, and he looks up to see Harry.

He tries to speak but nothing comes out so instead he nods and lets Harry drag him to his feet. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help before. I was busy fighting-“

“Harry,” Scorpius manages to get out, gesturing wildly over Harry’s shoulder to where Albus is advancing towards them.

“Shit.” Harry spins round and throws up a shield as Albus unleashes a barrage of spells. “Scorpius, get out of here. This isn’t safe. I don’t want to be responsible for you dying. You’re not an Auror. You need to leave.”

“No!” The word tears from Scorpius’s throat, and he collapses in on himself, coughing, which only makes everything ache more. He feels raw and bruised and it almost hurts to breathe, but he doesn’t need a voice to do his job. He’s spent years practicing non-verbal spells and maybe this is why. “Harry,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I can’t go. I’m the only one who can save Albus.”

Harry turns towards him with a look of pure incredulity. “He almost killed you!” 

“I-“ Scorpius swallows with great difficulty and draws in a deep breath. “I don’t care. If we don’t save him then we can’t help Jo. He won’t let us. And if we can’t help Jo then we all die and so do they.” He gestures upwards in the general direction of the square overhead. “Let me try. Please.”

Harry considers him for a long moment. “I shouldn’t let you do this...” He sighs. “I don’t want to lose both my son and my son-in-law on the same day.”

“You won’t,” Scorpius promises, and he can’t convey his conviction when his voice is like this, but he hopes that Harry will see it in him. 

There’s a pause, in which Harry’s shield trembles under Albus’s barrage of spells, then he nods and holds out Albus’s wand for Scorpius to take. “Go on.”

Scorpius reaches out for it, and there’s a moment when they’re both holding the handle and the shield overhead blazes bright. 

“Try to keep Jo calm while I do this?” He asks, and Harry nods and pats him on the shoulder. 

“Good luck.”

Harry lets go of the wand and sprints away, scooping up Scorpius’s wand from the floor as he goes and leaving Scorpius to face Albus alone. 

The shield nearly fractures in the second before Scorpius takes proper control of it, but he keeps it up and faces Albus, curling his fingers round the larch handle. Although it’s not his wand it still feels warm and familiar, like it knows he’s going to help its partner and it’s happy to play along. Scorpius squares himself up with all the determination he can muster and takes a deep breath. 

“Albus, I know you’re still in there, and I’m going to help you.”

 

Albus and Scorpius have been duelling each other regularly for years. The first time was in a sixth year Defence Against the Dark Arts class, but since then they’ve duelled for fun, for practice, to try out new spells and techniques. It’s nice to hone their skills and test each other out. Albus has always said he likes duelling Scorpius because Scorpius isn’t a trained Auror, so his style is different and unpredictable. Scorpius likes duelling Albus because it’s a challenge, a test of his strength, and an excellent work out. Albus is brilliant, and duelling for fun lets Scorpius admire his skill up close. 

It’s odd, Scorpius thinks as he faces Albus across the platform, how familiar and strange this feels all at once. If it weren’t for the flying spells and darkness and debris raining down on them as Jo tears the ceiling apart, it would feel just like any other day. Scorpius knows what to do here. It’s not a foreign situation. And he knows how to duel – and beat – Albus, except this is about healing, not about winning. 

He strengthens his shield as Albus batters him with a spate of simple spells. Stunners, Disarming Charms, there’s even a Bat Bogey Hex in there. It’s comforting to see that even under the influence of Death Eaters, Albus won’t resort to Unforgivables or dark magic. This is how Albus duels. Simple and quick, but Scorpius can withstand it, and what’s more, he can withstand it while he’s doing other complex magic. 

He internalises the shield, letting the magic seep into his bones until the charm feels like an extension of his skin. Albus’s spells feel like a distant pattering of rain, nothing to trouble him for now, not until he gets tired.

“Albus,” he says in a rasping whisper, not even sure if Albus can hear him over the echoing thunder of spells and chaos. “I’m going to try the spell again, the one that’ll heal you. It might hurt, and if it does then I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He knows he won’t get one through the malevolent rage. Instead he flicks Albus’s wand directly at its owner’s heart and loses himself in the tangled, writhing mess of darkness. 

He hears Albus’s gasp of pain, and he both sees and feels the strange, distant sensation of Albus clamping his hand to his chest, fingers digging in, like he wants to gouge his heart out. 

“Sorry,” Scorpius whispers. “When this is over it won’t hurt anymore. It shouldn’t.”

He attacks the darkness with every ounce of strength he has. Albus yells in pain and doubles over, clutching his chest. He lifts his head and looks at Scorpius, and for a moment, Scorpius can see Albus, his Albus, shining through, eyes bright and full of fear and pain. 

“Scorpius,” he groans. 

Scorpius rushes forward, relaxing his shield, and takes hold of his husband’s arm. “It’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to hurt, but I have to-“

The bright emerald goes dark, to a shadowed forest green. Albus’s arm twists in Scorpius’s grip, and he grasps Scorpius’s wrist. It takes all of Scorpius’s strength to drag himself free and stumble away as the curse comes flooding back in full force. 

“You’re not going to touch me,” Albus says, in a voice that’s too low, too steady, too menacing. There’s a commanding power to it, but Scorpius blocks it out and keeps going. 

The tangled magic is slippery and evasive. There’s no way of being gentle. Albus keeps twitching and convulsing and letting out little grunts of pain. Sometimes Scorpius sees a flicker of his husband shining through, but mostly it seems that the curse is being fuelled by the pain, and that it’s trying to fight back. 

Two minutes into the fight, Scorpius begins to think he’s getting somewhere. He finds a knot of magic that disintegrates when he touches it, and a whole section of the curse fades with it, unravelling like black string. 

“Yes!” He whispers. “Come on. Come on come on come on!” In his excitement he presses too hard, and instantly it’s as though the curse realises he’s there. 

“Get out,” Albus growls, and the next second Scorpius feels a bite of searing heat burn up his wand arm and discharge like electricity through his body. He lets out a scream of pain that seems to rip his throat apart, and then he hits the cold, solid platform floor, jolting his whole body. He cradles his arm across his chest and tries to breathe, to think, to work out what’s going on. 

He’s heard about this, curses fighting back towards the end, and it makes sense that this should be one of those, but he’s never felt it before. It’s never happened to him. 

He tries to move his arm, his left arm, his wand arm, the one that he needs, but when he does it feels like shards of sharp, jagged glass have lodged themselves inside him, and every single one of them is slicing through his muscles. When he looks down he sees that his fingertips have gone a smokey, charred grey colour, and that the beautiful, grained wood of Albus’s wand is cracked and blackened near the tip. 

Horror floods through him. Has he ruined his husband’s wand? What if it doesn’t work again? What if even after the curse is healed, if it can be healed, Albus never speaks to him again? What if-

Albus leaps on Scorpius, cutting off his catastrophising by bowling him over. His arm hits the ground and he gives a strangled, hoarse yelp of pain. He can’t fight back with his arm like this, but it’s either that or die, so among the tangle of his and Albus’s flailing limbs he manages to grab the wand awkwardly in his right hand and direct it at Albus’s heart, saying aloud the words of the incantation in the desperate hope that it’ll make an extra modicum of difference. 

Albus freezes, one hand still pressing Scorpius’s left shoulder into the platform, the other directing Harry’s wand at Scorpius’s face. His eyes flicker clear for a moment and his grip relaxes on Scorpius’s shoulder, enough for Scorpius to sit up. Albus scrambles back to let him, and they end up kneeling in front of each other, knees pressed together staring into each other’s eyes.

There’s a pause in the incantation, a breathing point in the rhythm, and Scorpius swallows and takes a breath. “Albus,” he whispers. “Is that you?”

Albus blinks several times, clarity and obscurity switching back and forth in his gaze. Sometimes he’s there, sometimes he’s not, and when he is there his expression is pained and confused, and despite everything, despite all the pain and the danger, Scorpius wishes he could just hug him.

He reaches out with his injured arm, moving as slowly as he can and gritting his teeth against the pain, and brushes his fingers down Albus’s arm until he can take his hand. “I’m here,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”

“Scorpius,” Albus breathes, and his voice is like a breath of fresh air, but it’s also a painful jolt because he sounds so shaky and afraid. 

Scorpius nods. “Yes, yes. I’m here. I’m going to help you. We-we’re nearly there.” It’s not quite a lie. It’s not. They are getting somewhere. He squeezes Albus’s hand as tight as he can and digs back into his heart. 

There’s a real duel going on inside Albus now. The curse is snapping and biting and chasing, trying to coil itself round Scorpius’s magic and throttle it. With everything constantly moving and shifting, it’s next to impossible to make any headway, and Scorpius isn’t sure if he wants to because Albus’s fingernails are digging into his hand and he can tell that he’s in agony. 

Scorpius’s head swims with the effort of evading the curse and keeping the magic going. He’s bone tired and he’s swaying on his knees. There’s no way he can do this. He shifts his hand to Albus’s wrist and locks his aching fingers around it, holding on with everything he has, trying to show Albus that he’s here and that it’s going to stop hurting in a minute.

Dark spots dapple the edges of his vision, and his head aches. He can’t tell anymore where he ends and Albus begins, what’s curse and what’s his own magic. He thinks he might throw up, and he can feel something hot that smells and tastes of iron trickling from his nose and down over his top lip. He struggles to draw breath. 

And then he feels a soft brush of fingers against his cheek and he looks up and realises that Albus is touching his face. Albus’s eyes are almost black in the half-light, from the curse that’s tearing through him, but that expression is all Albus. It’s familiar and it looks like love.  

“Y-you can do it,” Albus whispers. “You can-“ He draws in a ragged breath. His face contorts with pain and he drops his hand to Scorpius’s shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He doesn’t stop; he keeps going. “You can save her. Jo. I-I know you can. You _have_ to.”

“I’m going to save you first,” Scorpius says, and his voice sounds wrecked, broken and cracked, and he tastes blood in his mouth. Holding onto Albus is all that’s keeping him together – it’s all that’s ever kept him together.

Albus slumps forward and rests his head on Scorpius’s shoulder. His grip remains painfully tight, and Scorpius can tell that he’s struggling to stay afloat on the overwhelming sea of the curse, which is tossing him about like he’s nothing. Except he’s not nothing. He’s everything, and neither he nor Scorpius will be defeated by this. 

“I wanted to say,” Albus murmurs, “that I think you’d be a great dad. And I’m sorry I’ve been... I’m sorry that the curse... I-I wanted us to have a family, and-“

“And we’re going to have one,” Scorpius says. He grits his teeth, summons up all his remaining energy and courage, and attacks the curse. 

It’s a duel to the death, and Scorpius isn’t sure whether it’ll be the curse, him, or Albus that loses first. There’s barely anything left in him, it’s like the darkness is draining the life out of him. His whole body trembles with the effort of fighting, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to do the delicate work of unpicking the curse, because his right hand, the wrong hand but the only one he can use right now, is shaking so much on Albus’s wand. Albus is slumped against him, breathing shallow. He’s shaking too, and his body is heavy and limp. It’s all Scorpius can do to keep from collapsing under his weight, but he holds him up and keeps going, never letting his spell die for a second. 

Knots of darkness unravel and fall away. Scorpius’s head feels like it’s splitting in two. Shadows writhe and roil in Albus’s chest, but there’s more light than darkness. There’s more and more light. Growing brighter, the fog clearing to leave Albus free and unencumbered. The last strands of the curse unravel and there’s silence and stillness for a second before Scorpius remembers that he has to say the word they found hours ago. 

“Oikogeneia,” he says, with the last remaining shreds of his voice, and Albus slumps sideways and collapses in a lifeless heap on the floor.


	11. The Auror and The Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius thinks he's managed to get rid of Albus's curse, but that doesn't mean the battle is over. Evelyn is still at large, Jo is falling apart, and Albus isn't exactly conscious. It's time to try and sort things out once and for all...

Scorpius stares down at his husband in horror. Albus’s eyes are half closed and he’s gone stark white, far paler than Scorpius has ever seen him before. Scorpius drops Albus’s wand onto the platform and reaches out a hand to see if he can feel him breathing. A ghost of a breath reaches his fingers, and when he checks Albus’s pulse he feels a thready heartbeat. Not good, but alive. This they can deal with. 

He wipes the blood from his face and picks up Albus’s wand to continue working, even though he has no energy to do so, but as he does, he hears Harry shout from behind him. 

“Scorpius!”

He looks round to see a dense mass of black smoke hurling itself towards him and Albus, and in a moment of pure adrenaline-fuelled panic he dives to one side.

He doesn’t see Jo’s impact, and he doesn’t see where she hits, whether it’s the platform or the ceiling above it or if perhaps she bounces between the two. He hears the impact though, a thunderous smash followed by raining debris. When Scorpius briefly lifts his head he sees a huge cloud of dust, but then he accidentally inhales, and dust clogs his throat and he starts coughing, each cough tearing out of him like the particles he’s inhaling are shredding his throat. Everything tastes of grit, and as he blinks the dust from his eyes he realises that Albus is nowhere to be seen amongst the debris.

“No,” he breathes. “No no no no, Albus!” He inhales another lungful of dust and coughs wrack his body, but he doesn’t let that stop him crawling across to the pile of debris and clawing at it with his hands. “Come on, Albus. Please. I need you to-“

Another roiling cloud of smoke rushes past him, knocking him backwards so he rolls across the floor, jarring his arm. When he stops rolling he lies on his back, exhausted, throat clogged with dust and tears, unable to move another inch apart from to lift his head.

Jo is ricocheting up and down the platform, tearing it to pieces, and everyone has stopped fighting to watch her progress and try to stay out of her way. Death Eaters and Aurors alike stand and stare, wands held loosely in their hands, none of them seeming to have any idea what to do. They continues to watch as the smoke seeps towards the station exit, a great black cloud trickling along the ceiling and then out of the platform into the stairwell beyond. There’s a long moment of silent stillness after the last tendrils of smoke have disappeared before the moment is shattered.

“Follow her!” Evelyn screams. “Make sure she goes where she needs to.”

Immediately everyone is startled into action. The Death Eaters start running and the Aurors give chase. Spells start to crackle through the air again, flashes of colour lighting the darkness, bangs and cracks and running footsteps and shouts echoing off every tiled surface as the battle recedes into the distance.

For a moment, Scorpius thinks he’s been left entirely alone, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what he _can_ do. But then a hand grasps his arm and someone helps him sit up. 

He looks up to see Harry peering at him through shattered glasses. The big crack in the right lens makes his eye appear in multiples, a kaleidoscope of emerald green concern. He looks so much like Albus that the tears come thicker and faster until his face is a blur and Scorpius’s face aches from crying. 

“We need to help Jo,” Harry says urgently. “Can you stand?”

“Albus,” Scorpius says. It’s all he can get out. 

“I know,” Harry says, squeezing his shoulder, and his grip is so tight and lasts so long that Scorpius knows he’s holding on because he needs to. Because he understands. Because he’s scared too. “I- I know. I’ll find him. I’ll help him. But I can’t help Jo. She won’t listen to me. It _needs_ to be you. She trusts you, Scorpius.”

Scorpius pats around weakly on the ground for his wand, then gives up because he can’t feel it and even if he could he can’t imagine finding the energy to cast another spell. He stares up at Harry, and he’s aware that he’s shivering with exhaustion and emotion. Dried blood, snot, and tears mingle on his face in a wet, salty wash. His left arm aches from shoulder to fingertip. 

“I- I-“ He gives up trying to talk and just shakes his head. How do Aurors do this? How do they find the energy to keep on fighting even in situations like this? What would Albus do now?

“If don’t think you can do it I won’t ask you to,” Harry says. “But Scorpius... You might be the only chance she has left. You might be the only chance any of us has.”

Scorpius shifts his legs and manages to get his feet on the floor. He doesn’t think he can stand. Being upright seems such a long way away. His legs are like jelly. There’s no way he can do this. Except Albus – Albus would do it. Albus thought Scorpius could do it. Albus believed in him, trusted him, and it would be a horrible insult to Albus’s faith not to at least try. 

Scorpius draws in the deepest breath he can and holds his hand out to Harry. “Help me,” he rasps, voice catching in his throat, clawing and scraping like sand paper. 

Harry grabs hold of his wrist and pulls him up, and Scorpius grits his teeth and screws his eyes shut against the pain as he staggers to his feet and sways, trying desperately not to collapse. 

His head swims. He feels faint. He grips Harry’s arm and gulps in more breaths as his legs tremble beneath him. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asks. 

Scorpius shakes his head but lets go of Harry’s arm. Instantly he loses balance and goes stumbling forward several steps. He nearly collapses in a heap on the platform, but he makes it to the wall, leans against the pockmarked concrete and smashed tiles for support, and starts inching his way after the others. 

“Scorpius,” Harry calls, rushing over to him and gently taking hold of his arm again. “Are you sure you can do this?”

Scorpius looks at him and shakes his head again. “Just look after Albus. Please.”

“You’re going to need your wand,” Harry says, holding it out to him. The familiar, golden grain looks so welcoming, and when he takes it from Harry’s hand he feels warmth trickle up his damaged arm. All of a sudden it doesn’t hurt so much, and he draws in a deep breath as he tightens his fingers round the handle. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

“Please be safe,” Harry says. 

“I’ll try.”

Harry gives his shoulder one final squeeze, nods to him, then releases him. Scorpius grips his wand as tight as he can and sets off toward the sounds of battle, leaning one shoulder against the wall the whole time in an attempt to stay upright. 

It’s not hard to find where the group has gone. Although sound echoes through the corridors in a confusing way, bouncing back and forth and away into the distance, even through multiple doors and grates and up a broken-down escalator, it’s louder in one direction than the other, and Scorpius can see the flashes of light and the shadows of Jo’s smoke.

He’s not moving fast enough to catch up with them, he’s barely able to move at all, but thankfully they must have stopped at some point because as Scorpius stumbles through a grate in a wall into a dusty corridor, he finds himself embroiled in the heart of the battle. In an instant there are spells flying all around him, and after a few moments and some hesitant, hazardous steps forward, he sees Jo, standing with her back against the far wall, misty round the edges, with Evelyn standing over her pointing a wand at her heart. 

“Get away from her!” Scorpius yells, tearing his throat to shreds, and despite everything he starts to run. He weaves through the melee of spells, not bothering to block anything, just ducking his head and hoping against hope that nothing hits him. “Don’t you dare touch her.” The spell he flings at Evelyn in an attempt to knock her away from Jo is weak and feeble, and Evelyn laughs.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much better from Draco Malfoy’s son.”

Scorpius wants to scream at her – he wants to tell her that his dad is a thousand times the person she is, that she can’t hurt and insult his family without paying for it – but he doesn’t think he can get any more words out, so he flings another spell at her and keeps running.

Just when he’s about to reach her, she disappears, and for a second he doesn’t know whether she’s Apparated or turned invisible, or where she’s gone, but then he decides he doesn’t much care. All he wants to do is protect Jo. He rushes over to her and collapses on the ground in front of her. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers, because he can’t speak any louder. “Has Evelyn hurt you? Are you-“

“Evie!” She points over his shoulder and he throws up a shield before he turns round. Not a second too soon. The spell shatters in the air in front of him, and Jo yelps and cowers against the wall, covering her head with her arms.

Scorpius forces himself to his feet and faces Evelyn, wand pointed straight at her heart. “Don’t you dare,” he rasps.

She smirks at him. “What was that?”

Scorpius takes a very deep breath and tries to raise his voice, even though he knows she doesn’t deserve the satisfaction. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“Oh how sweet. Protecting the little Mudblood, who-“

Scorpius doesn’t even know what spell he casts. It’s like a burst of emotion that scythes out of him and misses Evelyn by inches. Her smile grows even wider. 

“Careful there.” She twirls her wand between her fingers, toying with him. “I was going to say, it’s a shame about your voice. And it’s a shame your husband couldn’t finish the job before he died.”

Scorpius explodes with anger. He suddenly understands how Jo must feel. All that anger and upset unleashed, a powerful enough torrent of emotion to tear apart a town, or dash a human to death. His rage lends him more energy, more strength and power, but it stops him thinking, so he’s now just a machine hurling spell after spell after spell. 

And the more spells he casts, the less attention he pays to his shield, the less he cares about protecting himself. He’s still aware of Jo cowering behind him, slowly turning into smoke, until she’s drifting around his feet and snapping out in Evelyn’s direction. He needs to protect her, he knows that, it’s not just about him, but at the same time, Albus might be dead, and Evelyn has caused so much pain and devastation that she deserves to be hurt, and he can make that happen.

He keeps going, driving himself ever deeper into the pit of exhaustion. He doesn’t really know or care if any of his spells are hitting their mark. Sometimes it just feels good to unleash like this. He rarely gets chance to attack. It’s all about careful, gentle, complex, intimate magic, and normally that’s more than enough. Normally he loves that. It’s who he is, it’s his life’s work. But sometimes it’s nice to step into Albus’s world and fight. Especially when Albus isn’t there to do it for him.

He’s so busy hurling out spells that he doesn’t notice when his shield starts to crumble. Everything is such a wash of magic, and he’s so dizzy with exhaustion that he can barely stand, and he really has no idea what’s going on anymore. So the first thing he notices about anything being wrong with his shield is when it shatters. And by then it’s too late to do anything about the flash of emerald light heading straight for his head. 

 

For a split second, Albus feels completely free. It’s like he’s floating in light and warmth, separate from the world, and full of all the goodness that Scorpius has poured into him. He feels healed, and it’s wonderful. 

Then he feels crushing weight, intense pain, and about a hundred of his bones breaking all in one go. Everything goes black. And then...

“Albus. _Albus_. Albus, can you hear me?”

There’s light. Somewhere above him. He can’t move, but he does manage to open one eye and he’s blinded by bright white wandlight. He groans and closes his eye again, then he chokes on dust and grit and starts coughing. Excruciating pain burns through his chest, and he tries to stop coughing but he can’t. His throat is clogged up with debris and he can’t breathe. 

“Albus! Hang on. I need to- Wingardium Leviosa.” 

The weight on Albus’s chest lifts, up and away. Then he feels the brush of a hand on his shoulder, and magic weaves itself around and into his body, magic that feels warm and familiar, like tea and toast by the fire in his parents’ kitchen on a winter’s day. Everything goes black again. 

Next time he comes to, there’s less pain. A lot less pain, and now when he coughs it doesn’t feel like he’s being torn into pieces. He curls over onto his side, hacking and choking, and when he stops coughing he realises that he can breathe again, so he lies there and does just that, because it feels too good not to.

Someone is stroking his hair he realises after a few glorious breaths. He tries to blink so he can see who it is – his eyes feel like they’re full of sandpaper – and he hopes it’s Scorpius, but when the tears and blinking finally clear his eyes he sees his dad crouching beside him, glasses shattered, suit covered in dust, a trickle of blood running down the side of his face. And okay, he thinks to himself, that’s a good alternative to Scorpius. If he had to pick anyone else, it would be his dad.

“Dad,” he croaks, and Harry looks at him, joy and disbelief lighting his face. 

“Albus! Are you- are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been hit by the Hogwarts Express.” He struggles to sit up and instantly regrets it as the world tilts sideways and starts spinning off axis. He buries his face in his hands and takes deep breaths until his nausea subsides. “Where’s Scorpius?” He asks, looking up at his dad. Thankfully the world has stopped spinning, but his dad is still frowning at him, and he doesn’t seem forthcoming with an answer. 

“I don’t think you should be sitting up, or-“

“No!” Albus insists, grabbing the front of his dad’s jacket and tugging on it. Why does his dad not understand? He doesn’t need to lie down. He needs his husband. He needs to know that Scorpius is safe. “Scorpius. Where is he?”

“He went to help Jo. He-“

“Help me up,” Albus demands. He grabs hold of his dad’s wrist and starts scrambling to try and get to his feet. Harry tries to pull his hands away and very definitely doesn’t help. “Come on!” Albus growls, frustrated. “Dad, please. He could be in trouble. We need to go and help him.”

“You’ve just been healed of a curse that tried to kill you, and you had half the ceiling of this place collapse on top of you,” Harry says, tugging his wrist free and holding his hands up so they’re useless to Albus. “You’re not going anywhere. Except St Mungo’s.”

“But-“ Albus can see the spark in his dad’s eye that means he won’t be convinced, so he takes matters into his own hands. “Fine.” He plants his hands on the floor and hauls himself upright. His body aches and complains, and he nearly collapses twice, but he makes it up and stands there swaying, looking around for the way out of the platform. 

“You really shouldn’t be doing this,” Harry says, standing up next to him and taking hold of his arm to support him. 

“When has that ever stopped _you_?” Albus asks, looking at him. He doesn’t wait for the answer. He starts stumbling across the platform towards the gaping black hole that marks the way into the rest of the station. 

Harry chases after him. “Albus, wait. You don’t even have a wand.”

Albus pauses in his stride. “Can’t I just punch her in the face?”

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “Yes, but not if you get killed before that. Here.” He holds a wand out, Albus’s wand, and Albus feels the sense of relief and homecoming that he always feels when he’s reunited with it after losing it in battle. 

“Thanks,” he says, and takes it, but as he does he looks at it properly and pauses, frowning. “What... what happened to it?” The wood near the tip looks like it’s been boiled, or burned in a fire. There are long cracks running down it, and where the wood has split he can see the grain beyond the polished exterior. In some places he can even see black flashes of Dragon Heartstring. It looks... he doesn’t know how it looks. One part of him thinks it looks quite cool; his wand is almost as battle-scarred as he is now. Another part of him is flooded with the horrible fear that his faithful companion, the partner that’s got him through so much, might be ruined.

“Scorpius was healing you,” Harry murmurs. “He was using your wand, because I was using his, and I think the curse... it attacked him and did that.”

Albus swallows hard. “Is he okay?”

The pause before Harry says or does anything is too long. Finally he nods, but it’s not enough. There’s no time to wait anymore or worry about whether the wand works. Albus will find out soon enough. Right now he has to help his husband. 

“I’m going to find him,” he says, and starts running out of the platform.

By the time he gets to the bottom of the escalators, Albus is realising how terrible an idea it was to run. His legs feel like they’re about to collapse from beneath him, and every fibre of his being is screaming at him to stop. But Scorpius is somewhere up ahead, and a little thing like exhaustion isn’t stopping Albus now.

He takes off up the escalators, legs getting stiffer and stiffer by the second. When he reaches the top he stumbles and almost falls to his knees, but he puts a hand on the wall and keeps pushing on, through an open door, along a corridor, listening out for any sound of the fight, because he has no idea where he is. 

As Albus rounds a bend in the corridor he spots a grate in the wall open up ahead, swung right out into the passage, half blocking it. With a rush he realises that it’s familiar: the grate he’d tried to lead the party through before. And then he hears the fighting up ahead. 

Evelyn’s laughter is echoing every wall, and it makes him shiver because it’s so ice cold. He remembers how it felt to have her voice inside his head, directing him to do terrible things that he didn’t want to do, and he clenches his fist tighter around his damaged wand and makes a beeline for that voice.

The cold, hard calculation of his Auror training sets in as he rushes the last few steps to the grate. It pushes through his adrenaline and his fear, and he conjures a shield that blossoms around him. It’s a relief just how easy and familiar it is to cast, like his wand is overjoyed to have him back. He could hold that shield forever, and if he can keep himself safe then he should be able to keep Scorpius safe too.

The second he goes through the grate and arrives in the dim, dusty, cramped corridor where the fight is taking place, spells begin to patter off his shield. It’s all cross-fire though, and stray spells. No one is attacking him yet. He uses the moment before people spot him joining the fray to try and find Scorpius. It shouldn’t be hard – the white blond hair stands out easily in any crowd, and- There. Albus spots him in an instant. 

He’s further down the corridor, kneeling in front of Jo, talking to her. Evelyn is nowhere to be seen, but it doesn’t occur to Albus to think of that, because for a moment all he can focus on is Scorpius and Jo. It’s the first time he’s seen them interact and not felt an inexplicable surge of anger and sickness. Now he just feels... warm. Light. There’s a fluttery sensation in his heart because his husband is being so tender and gentle, and- And once they’ve made it out of here alive they’re going to talk about Scorpius’s list. They _have_ to. And with that glorious thought lending him heart, Albus turns towards the nearest Death Eater and starts to clear a path towards his husband.

The first curse hits him so hard that he’s almost knocked off his feet. It takes all his strength and energy to stay standing and watch as a black, writhing mass of magic slithers over the top of his shield and dissipates. It looks so much like the curse that had been inside him that it makes him shudder, and the next Stinging Hex he throws back misses its mark. 

Despite the early near miss, he quickly discovers that even in his weakened state, as long as he keeps his head, he’s more than a match for these Death Eaters. Aside from the curses they’d put on him, and the damage they’ve done to Jo, this is a gang of ineffectual, under-trained fighters. It seems strange that their plan would involve luring the Aurors to them if they hadn’t prepared for it, but of course, Albus reflects, he was supposed to be on their team; he was supposed to kill Scorpius at least, and he’d be a match for any of the others too; even his dad. Maybe they were counting on him to do the dirty work and keep everyone else distracted. If they were, they seriously miscalculated, because with him now involved, and his dad joining the fray behind him, the fight doesn’t last long. 

Duels always feel so slow when he’s in them. Each spell takes an eternity to reach its mark, by which time great chasms can open up between where the target is and where it should be, as slow and extreme as the tectonic movement of the earth. Every twitch of a muscle feels like a momentous decision, the distance between life and death. An inch, or even a millimetre, can decide a person’s fate. Everything is exaggerated, exacerbated, and there are years, decades, millennia, in which to think things through. 

And yet this one seems to be over in the blink of an eye. It takes three spells to catch his first assailant with a Stunning Spell. Two more he ties up by conjuring a length of rope. The last he hits with a Trip Jinx, and Harry knocks them out cold. 

All of a sudden the room is quiet, the patter of spells silenced. There’s no more threat apart from Evelyn, and Scorpius is still dealing with her. Or at least he was before. 

Albus looks around to find out what’s happening with the two of them now, and he sees it all happen. 

There’s thick black smoke around Scorpius’s legs, so it looks like he’s wading in a dark sea. He’s firing spells at Evelyn, a look of pure, livid fury on his face – Albus has rarely seen him look that ferocious and it’s terrifying. For a moment all Albus can do is stare transfixed at the rage in Scorpius’s face, but then he notices Scorpius’s shield, which is becoming visible and beginning to crack. Albus draws in a breath to shout and warn him, but before he has chance the shield shatters, and Evelyn screams her spell. 

“Avada Kedavra!”

The emerald light flashes through the air, right at Scorpius’s face, and Albus takes off running to try and bowl him out of the way, except he’s too far away, he’ll never get there in time, Scorpius is going to die, and-

And then the smoke thickens around Scorpius’s legs, until it’s a hand which sweeps his feet from under him, and he crumples onto the ground, the spell skimming the top of his hair. 

Albus doesn’t stop running. He needs to protect Scorpius himself. He needs to shield him with his magic and with his body, and he needs to make one hundred percent sure that his husband is alive and okay. 

Apparently Jo has had the same idea, because out of the black smoke she materialises in front of Scorpius, fists clenched, face screwed up in anger and determination. Despite how small and thin she is, she looks powerful and intimidating, and there’s something not quite human about her. 

“You won’t hurt anyone else,” she says in a voice of trembling anger, glaring at Evelyn

She’s not perfectly solid. Black wisps are flying off her and coiling into the air. Her eyes are black, and Albus doesn’t think it’s just the shadows in this dark space making them look that way. Her teeth are bared like a dragon about to attack. She looks wrong – Albus isn’t a Healer, but he’s seen more than enough magical creatures in his career to know that she looks more animal than human now. The parasitic entity of the Obscurus must be eating her from the inside out, just the way Albus’s curse had tried to consume him.

Evelyn laughs. “Really. How are you going to stop me?” She twirls her wand between her fingers then points it first at Jo before moving it to aim right at Scorpius. “I think it’s time to stop all this messing about, don’t you?”

“Yes,” comes Jo’s tight, terse, determined response.

Albus recognises the danger in Jo’s eyes and instantly redirects his course towards her. He hopes he can get to her and stop her before she does whatever it is she’s about to do. But of course he’s too slow. The second he’s recognised the potential danger, almost at the same instant he starts to act upon it, Jo vanishes into a thick black roiling mass that sweeps towards Evelyn and hits her, strong and rough as a storm. She’s tossed up into the air as if by gale force winds, then she hangs there for a moment, and everything is very still. 

The eye of a hurricane. 

Then in the next second she falls out of the air and is dashed on the tunnel floor, like a ship against rocks. Albus hears the sickening crack as she lands and a jolt of pure horror runs through him. He knows she’s dead even before he sees the cuts on her face and the fact that she’s no longer moving. 

“Jo,” Scorpius gasps, lifting his head from where he’s collapsed on the ground and staring at Evelyn’s lifeless body, eyes wide, not seeming to comprehend what he’s seeing. 

The girl materialises next to Evelyn, and she looks even more wrong now than she had just a few seconds earlier. 

“I- I-“ she whispers, staring down at Evelyn. She’s gone a sickly grey colour, and she doesn’t look animal anymore. She looks like a little girl – a terrified little girl – but her eyes are still pitch black and she fades in and out of focus, form shifting and swirling like smoke. She looks like she’s falling apart. 

“She was going to-“ Jo breathes, looking between Scorpius and Albus. “And I-“ She starts to cry, and her tears are pearls of black smoke that puff down her cheeks and dissipate in the air. Her whole body trembles, and she collapses to her knees as Scorpius and Albus both race to her side.

“We need Healers,” Scorpius rasps. 

Albus is so shocked by how wrecked Scorpius’s voice sounds that he simply sits on his heels and stares at him. The bruises round his neck, that horrible damaged sound. Albus did that. The memory feels distorted and distant, but it is a memory. It’s _his_ memory, and it makes him feel sick. 

“Don’t look at me!” Scorpius’s voice squeaks as it rises higher. “Tell the others! She’s- We need help!”

Shocked and shaken, Albus startles round towards the others. “We- we need to call St Mungo’s. Dad! We need Healers.” He doesn’t wait to see what his dad does, but he doesn’t need to. A second later silver light bursts through the room, and he knows the stag Patronus is on its way to call for help. 

“It’s okay,” Scorpius whispers, catching hold of Jo as she sways and starts to fall backwards. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You- you saved me. And now we’re going to help you.”

She’s still crying even as Scorpius lays her on the ground and brushes his fingers through her hair. Shreds of smoke tear off her, and it looks like her form is getting smaller and smaller by the second. Soon there’ll be nothing left. She’ll be gone. 

She looks up at Albus with terrified eyes, and he can see a bit of himself there. He knows what it’s like to be consumed by forces beyond his control, to feel like he’s losing himself to magic. He reaches out a shaking hand and brushes a bit of hair from her forehead and wishes he had it in his power to do anything for her. But healing isn’t his area. He feels lost here. He can only hope that Scorpius will know what to do; it’s a comfort to have someone here who has a chance.

“She... she hurt you too,” Jo murmurs, looking up at him, right into his eyes. “Evie, she-“

Albus nods. “Yeah, she- she did.”

“And you’re okay.”

Albus looks across at Scorpius, who’s drawn his wand now and seems to be trying to decide where to start with holding Jo together. 

“Only because of him.”

Scorpius glances across at Albus, and Jo looks at Scorpius. 

“Is he going to save me too?” She asks. 

Scorpius doesn’t say anything, he just swallows hard, closes his eyes, and starts casting spells. They weave together in a golden web across Jo’s chest, wrapping around her arms and legs, like the threads are going to hold her together, or act as a net to stop the bits of her shearing off and escaping. 

“He’s going to do everything he can,” Albus says, not taking his eyes off Scorpius for a second. 

Jo’s fingers brush lightly against his hand, and he lets her hold onto him because there’s nothing else he can do for her. There’s nothing else he can do at all. He’s powerless in this situation where Jo is dying and Scorpius- Scorpius doesn’t look good. 

He’s gone very pale, like all the colour is draining out of him and into the spell. He’s shaking, and swaying slightly, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to be able to hold himself up for much longer. After everything the past day has taken out of him, this is the last thing he should be doing. Albus may not know a thing about healing, but he knows that whatever Scorpius is doing to keep Jo alive is killing him.

“Scorpius,” he whispers. 

Scorpius doesn’t respond, and Albus can’t tell if he’s choosing to say nothing or if he’s incapable of talking right now. 

“Scorpius, let me help. Tell me what to do.”

“You can’t,” Scorpius croaks, in a strained little whisper.

“ _Yes_ ,” Albus says. “I can. I can at least try. Now tell me what to do.”

“The Healers are ten minutes away,” Harry calls from behind them. “And Ministry backup too. We can’t Apparate in here so they have to come through the tunnels.”

“Ten minutes,” Scorpius says weakly. He glances in Harry’s direction and his grip on his wand slackens. For a moment he looks utterly defeated, and Albus takes hold of his wrist and squeezes it tight.

“I want to help,” Albus insists. “We can do it if you let me help.”

Scorpius hesitates for a moment, but then Jo gasps. Her body twitches and convulses, and there’s black smoke pouring out of her ears and eyes and nose and mouth now, thick and dark as congealing blood. That seems to make his decision for him.

“O-okay. You need to- Healing Charms. Not the basic ones. The fancy stronger ones. Do you know how to-?”

“Yes!” Albus says, already fumbling with his wand to start casting the spells. “Yes, yes I do.”

Scorpius nods. “Those. Lots of those.” He watches Albus cast one before he goes back to his own spellwork, still weaving that complex net of golden light. For a moment they work in frenzied silence. Jo’s legs have almost completely dissolved now, and the air around them is full of her restless darkness. It clouds Albus’s vision and makes it difficult for him to see what he’s doing, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps casting spells to try and shore up her existence and keep her present and whole, however futile an effort it feels. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Scorpius whispers suddenly through the smoke. “I don’t know if this will-“ He looks up at Albus, and he looks exhausted and desperate. “Do you think this is what they wanted? If this doesn’t work she’ll die and- and she’ll rip everything apart when she does.”

“Eight minutes,” Albus says, glancing down at his watch. “The others will be here in eight minutes. You’ve kept her together this long. What’s another eight minutes?”

Scorpius falls onto his heels and sways sideways so he’s not kneeling anymore, he’s sitting. The threads of light binding Jo together have gone a pale silver colour rather than the strong gold they were before. He shakes his head and a tear dribbles down his cheek. “It’s not... it’s not working anymore. I-I can’t...” He trails off into nothing as he slumps forward, eyes fluttering closed, and Albus abandons his spells to grab him and stop him landing on Jo. 

“Scorpius,” he says, “Scorpius, stay with me. I can’t-“ _I can’t keep you both alive on my own._ But Scorpius doesn’t respond. His body is heavy and limp, utterly unconscious.

Jo is writhing on the ground now, and the smoke is flying off her in a great wash. There’s more smoke than girl now, and her eyelids are fluttering, her face contorted in pain. There’s no way Albus can do this, and there’s probably not enough time to get anyone else to safety. They’re all going to die down here. 

“Dad,” he calls over his shoulder. “I love you, but you need to get everyone out of here now. Get everyone as far away as you can, and get the area clear above ground.”

“But-“ 

“Do it!” Albus yells, voice echoing off the walls. He looks round at his dad and meets his eyes. “Please,” he says, and his voice breaks. “I’m not leaving these two behind.”

“And I don’t want to leave you,” Harry says, not moving an inch. 

Albus hesitates for a second, then points his wand at his dad. “Save yourself, save them. If you don’t go I’ll- I’ll make you.”

Harry looks at the wand, and Albus can tell that he’s assessing their capabilities against each other, trying to work out if he can resist any spell Albus puts on him. And finally, thankfully, he nods. “Fine. Come on,” he says to the others. “We’re leaving. Bring this lot, and move fast.” He looks back at Albus. “I’ll see you when you get out. I love you.”

Albus lowers his wand. “See you,” he murmurs in a very small voice, and he wishes he could give his dad a hug, but there’s no time for that and they both know it. As Harry sets off running down the corridor, shepherding the others in front of him, Albus sees him wipe the tattered sleeve of his jacket across his cheek. 

The lonely silence once the retreating footsteps have gone is deafening. There’s six minutes until any help arrives, Jo has faded into an incorporeal mass, and Scorpius is completely unconscious, the spell he’d put on Jo fading fast. 

Albus lowers Scorpius to the ground then strokes what’s left of Jo’s hair and tries to figure out what to do. He could put a shield around them. That might contain some of the blast that’s going to come from her destruction. He could try and save Scorpius at least, maybe just shield him. But the idea of giving up and planning damage limitation rather than working out how to save Jo’s life seems like defeat. There _must_ be a way to keep her going for six minutes, mustn’t there? And then the team from St Mungo’s will know what to do. They’ll be able to help Jo properly. Hadn’t Scorpius mentioned at some point that there were ways to save Obscurials these days? If Albus can keep this going he can save a lot of lives. That’s why he became an Auror in the first place, because he refused to lose anyone else. 

He tightens his grip on his wand and takes a deep breath. He has to do something. He’s Albus Severus Potter. Resourcefulness and weird creative thinking are what he’s always done best. If he can’t get them out of this mess then no one can.

Scorpius’s web of magic hasn’t entirely faded yet. The strands are almost white now, and barely visible, but they are still there, and Albus wonders if a stronger version of that spell might be able to do something. Scorpius had obviously hoped it would work, and Scorpius is knowledgeable and has excellent instincts. Albus may not know how to cast that spell, but he has a few tricks of his own that he’s learned over the years. 

There’s a technique that Aurors practice a lot in case someone dies or is knocked out in battle. It’s a way of other Aurors taking over a spell, normally a ward or a shield, so it doesn’t collapse and leave everyone else exposed. It doesn’t rely on any knowledge of which spell was cast originally, all it takes is power and empathy, and a feel for the other person’s magic. Albus reckons he has all those three things, especially where Scorpius is concerned, so he reaches out with his wand, touches the tip to one of the strands of light, and prays that Auror techniques work as well on Healing spells as they do on defensive ones. 

It takes a painfully long handful of seconds before he feels anything of the spell he’s trying to connect with. It’s been fading for so long that it’s barely there, and there’s hardly anything of Scorpius left in it. But all of a second he senses it, that warmth that belongs to his Scorpius. The feeling of coming home after a long day. Friendship, and fondness, and family. Pure love. He latches onto it, imagining Scorpius sitting with him in the bakery down the road on a sunlit spring morning, blond hair shining in the sunlight, hands flailing as he talks about his list and makes his case for why the time is right for them to start a family. 

In that second of connection, Albus pours all his energy into the spell to revitalise it. The dark underground space glows golden bright in an instant, and the fragile network of spells burns bright like the sun, percolating through the thick black smoke like sunbeams through rain clouds, making Scorpius’s unconscious form glow. 

Five minutes. That’s how long Albus has to hold this until there’s proper hope that everything will be okay. 

He looks down at Jo and sees her face forming out of the smoke. She’s being bound back together again. The faded bits of her body are coalescing and solidifying. As soon as he can, Albus takes hold of her hand and squeezes it tight. 

“Nearly there,” he promises her. “We’re nearly there. Five minutes and then people will be here to help you.”

He shifts his fingers on his wand, pours all the love and hope he has to give into the spell, and waits. 

It’s the longest five minutes in the world. It feels like an eternity. But eventually he hears running footsteps coming along the tunnel towards them and he pours the last of himself into the spell and slips into darkness, knowing that everything is going to be okay.


	12. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius recovers, Albus demonstrates a new skill, and Jo is reunited with her parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a tiny bit late. It's been a very busy week!

The first thing Scorpius feels when he comes to is someone brushing their fingers gently through his hair. He shivers and opens his eyes. 

“Albus?” His voice creaks, and it aches to talk.

His dad withdraws his hand and smiles down at him. “Unfortunately not. Sorry to disappoint.”

Scorpius sighs and shakes his head. “Not-“ He swallows. “Not a-a disappointment. You’ll do.” His throat really does hurt. It feels swollen and injured, and he assumes he’s not meant to be talking at all. Unfortunately, not talking has never been something he’s especially talented at.

“I’ll do, will I?” His dad asks, eyes sparkling, and Scorpius can see his smile widen further. Only now does he recognise the worry that had been there when he’d first opened his eyes. “I‘m eternally grateful,” he says drily. 

Scorpius smiles. “I’m glad,” he whispers. For a moment he sits in silence, then he glances up at his dad, who holds up a hand to stop him before he even says a word. 

“Before you ask,” his dad says. “To save you talking – which I’m told you really shouldn’t be doing by the way – Albus is fine. Better than you at least. He’s recovering elsewhere.” 

“What’s wrong with-“

“Him?” Draco guesses. “Mild exhaustion, the odd broken bone. He’s been up and about for the last day or so.” 

Scorpius looks down at his hands. “I was actually going to ask about me,” he murmurs. “But I’m very glad he’s okay. Can I visit him?”

Draco mutters something that sounds very much like ‘incorrigible’. “No,” he says. “He may visit you. If you’re very good. And only if you don’t talk. But you’re not leaving this bed for quite some time.”

“I-“ Scorpius cuts himself off at his dad’s look and nods instead. He wonders how long it takes to become fluent in sign language. Not being able to communicate is frustrating. 

“You wanted to know what was wrong with you,” his dad says, smile fading and expression going sharp and severe. 

Scorpius nods. 

“Some minor cuts and grazes,” Draco says. “The damage to your throat – which Albus keeps trying to apologise to me for, Merlin knows why – spell damage to your arm that they fixed with relative ease, and extreme exhaustion to the point that you nearly died.” 

Scorpius fiddles with his blankets. “I was-“

“I thought you’d be safer,” Draco interrupts, not looking at Scorpius and instead adjusting his cuffs. “Being a Healer rather than an Auror or anything else. But apparently I was wrong. And the fact that you’re married to Albus doesn’t help.”

“It wasn’t his fault!” Scorpius squeaks, then bows his head as he starts coughing, which hurts even more than talking and doesn’t make his throat feel any better at all. “He was cursed,” he whispers when the coughing subsides. His voice is so soft now it’s barely audible, but he knows his dad hears.

“I wasn’t blaming your husband,” Draco says. “I was just commenting that the pair of you lead a rather adventurous life... I’ve been told that you helped to save a lot of people.”

Scorpius shrugs. “I saved Albus... and I tried to save-“ He gasps, and it feels like his throat’s been torn in half. “Where’s Jo?” He rasps. “Dad, where’s-“

“Is she the girl they kidnapped?” Draco asks. “I know a girl was rescued from the station with you and Albus, but I don’t know-“

Scorpius scrambles to try and get out of bed. Every bit of him hurts. His muscles are weak, and his whole body shakes and feels like it’s going to collapse, but he ignores all that and struggles to start moving towards the door. He doesn’t stop until his dad runs round the bed and takes hold of his arm to block him from going any further. He doesn’t have the strength to resist someone holding him even gently. 

“Get back into bed,” his dad says, and his tone is firm enough that Scorpius doesn’t bother to disobey. He swings his legs back under the covers and lies down, limbs trembling just from the tiny amount of exertion he’s put them through.

“What part of ‘you nearly died of exhaustion’ do you not understand?” His dad asks, and his voice is low and shaky, and- and scared. He sounds scared.

“Sorry,” Scorpius whispers. 

Draco stands next to him and strokes his hair again for a moment, then he takes a deep breath and goes back to his seat. “I’ll ask,” he says. “About the girl. And I’ll tell you as soon as I have an answer. But you need to rest. _Please_ rest.”

Scorpius nods, and he thinks he understands. His dad is worried about him like he‘s worried about Jo, the sort of worry that comes from responsibility for someone and a desire to do nothing but protect and care for them. Maybe this is what being a parent is like. 

He curls up on his side and reaches out to take his dad’s hand. 

“Sorry,” he repeats. 

His dad leans down and kisses him on top of his head. “I’ll find out about her,” he promises. “Perhaps Albus will know.”

 

Scorpius sees Albus only a couple of times over the next few days. He spends most of his time sleeping, and when he’s awake he’s not allowed to talk, so he’s hardly scintillating conversation. His dad keeps a constant eye on him, and whenever Scorpius even thinks about opening his mouth he reconsiders the second his dad shoots him a hard look. His throat hurts too much for talking anyway. The Healers are working on it but it’s a slow and frustrating process as they try not to make the damage worse. 

The first real moment Scorpius gets alone with his husband is on the sixth day of his stay in hospital, when he’s finally allowed out of bed and decides that his top priority is to see Jo. Apparently he isn’t alone in wanting to see her, because when he reaches her room he finds Albus standing outside peering in through the window. 

Scorpius steps up beside him and puts a hand on his arm for support. It’s still difficult to stand for a long time without help. 

When he looks past Albus into the room, he can see Jo in there, sitting up in bed and talking to two people who look remarkably similar to her. There’s a woman, who Scorpius guesses is her mum, perched on the edge of her bed, and a man, her dad, is standing beside them with his hands in his pockets. Jo looks exhausted but alive, and she’s smiling as she looks up at her mum, a sort of sunshine smile that reaches her eyes. 

“Those are her parents?” Scorpius asks softly. 

Albus nods and turns to look at him. “Your voice sounds better. How do you feel?”

Scorpius squeezes his arm. “Okay. A lot better than yesterday. Apparently I’m recovering well.”

“That’s good,” Albus says, reaching across to give Scorpius’s hand a gentle pat. For a moment he glances away and stares through the window at Jo and her mum and dad, then he takes a breath and turns his back on them. “They brought them in once she was more stable,” he says, looking at Scorpius. “Her parents. I think it’s helped her, having them around.“

Scorpius strokes a hand down his arm and steps in closer, until Albus draws him into a hug and gives him a leaning post. “Is she getting better?” He asks, watching Jo over Albus’s shoulder. When she laughs her body shakes, and she looks younger, almost carefree.

“Apparently it’s too early to say how she’s going to do, but she has a really good chance,” Albus says, squeezing him tight. “Thanks to you.” He kisses Scorpius on the cheek, then draws away an inch to look at him. “It’s not something they fix overnight. I don’t know if they fix it at all, so much as teach her to control her magic until the Obscurus has nothing left to feed on and dies... But they’re optimistic. And it’s good for her to have her family around so she can start healing from everything Evelyn and the others did. They can all start healing together.”

Jo glances up as Scorpius watches her, and she spots him. She smiles at him and waves, and her parents look towards the door for a second too. When Scorpius makes eye contact with her mum he feels a strange pang for his own mum who’s been gone for years now but who he sometimes still desperately misses. 

“I-I think I should go and sit down,” Scorpius says, holding tighter to Albus as his legs buckle. 

Albus grips his arms to hold him up. “Do you want to go back to your room?”

“No!” Scorpius says sharply. He pushes himself up a bit straighter, trying to hold his own weight. “If I go back this soon Dad will fuss. I’d like to talk to my husband. It feels like it’s been eons. Maybe I can just sit in a wheelchair while you push me round for a bit.”

“Because your husband wasn’t buried alive a couple of days ago, and wouldn’t also appreciate being pushed round in a wheelchair.” 

For a second, Scorpius is uncertain whether that’s supposed to make him feel guilty or not, but then sees the teasing glint in Albus’s eyes and remembers that this is his husband, who’s back to his usual quick-witted self; no longer consumed by the vindictive curse that would have really meant words like that. Scorpius pinches his arm and glares at him. “Broken bones are easy to mend with magic. You’re fine.”

Albus snorts. “Always so considerate. But it’s okay. I shall push you around, and if anyone tells me off later I’ll just blame you. You are a Healer after all.”

“Deal,” Scorpius says with a smile.

Albus draws his wand and summons a wheelchair that trundles along the corridor until Scorpius can sink into it. He leans back and closes his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Albus asks, all the teasing replaced with a sudden softness.

“I think so,” Scorpius murmurs. “Just about.”

“Are you tired?” Albus asks, ruffling his hair. 

Scorpius shakes his head. “No, I was- It sounds stupid. I just realised how much I miss my mum. Sometimes it... Sometimes it hits me.”

“Oh.” Albus curls his fingers through Scorpius’s hair, running them all the way down to the nape of his neck, in long, featherlight strokes. It makes Scorpius’s scalp tingle, and it feels so comforting. 

Scorpius draws in a breath and opens his eyes. “I’m glad Jo found her parents. I’m glad it worked out well. A-and I’m glad you’re okay.” He glances round at Albus. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

Albus nods and looks down at his hands. “You saved my life, I think. The curse is all gone. Your team were very impressed with the work you’d done on your own. I, um… I reckon if it had taken much longer the curse would have eaten me alive.”

“It’s really completely gone?” Scorpius asks. He doesn’t have his wand with him, and he’s banned from doing magic for a while so he can’t check for himself. That would be the most comforting thing to do. Luckily, Albus seems to sense what he’s thinking, because he draws his own wand and points it at his chest. 

To Scorpius’s surprise, a shadowy diagram of Albus blossoms in the air beside them, showing everything. The fading cuts and bruises, the faint weaknesses where his bones haven’t completely finished healing yet, a general blue aura of tiredness, the golden effects of Painkilling spells. And then there’s his head and the centre of his chest, which are completely clear apart from a faint silver light that Scorpius recognises as the residue left from his own healing spell. Scorpius scrutinises the diagram with the depth of detail that all his years of training and experience have taught him, but there’s nothing he can see to suggest that there’s anything wrong with Albus at all anymore. In his professional opinion, Albus is completely cured. 

“You look good,” he says, and Albus smirks. 

“I’m glad you think so.”

Scorpius swats at him. “You know what I meant. Where did you learn to cast that spell by the way?”

Albus’s smirk shifts into a slightly nervous smile. “I was curious. I asked one of the Healers to show me. I thought it might be useful for work...”

“Maybe you should consider a career change,” Scorpius says.

“I don’t know...” Albus lets the diagram evaporate and puts his wand away. “Anyway. I really hope that now the curse is gone and all this is over...” He looks at Scorpius, and his eyes are the miserable shadowed green of a usually beautiful garden on a cloudy day. “I hope you can let me put everything I said and-“ He gestures to Scorpius’s neck before dropping his hand and staring down at the floor. “And did... behind me. I don’t know if you can forgive me or not. I don’t know if I deserve it. But I want to try and be better for you, and show you how much I love you, and how happy you make me, and-“

“Albus,” Scorpius says softly, and Albus stops and stares at him, the sort of panic in his eyes that only comes in situations like this, not the situations that deserve panic – like the possible death of hundreds of thousands of people including his own, or being buried alive, or being put under the sort of curse that would consume any other person to the point that they might never come back to being recognisably themselves. But Albus is very much himself. Not the same as before, after something like this that’s impossible, but still Albus, and still Scorpius’s husband who he loves with all his heart and soul. 

“You can stop trying to explain yourself now,” Scorpius tells him. “You don’t need to. I promise.”

“But-“

“I work in curses,” Scorpius says with a smile. “This is my life. I know what they do to people. I know what yours did to you. And I think you actually dealt with it pretty well. You know,” he skims his fingers over the tender bruises on his throat. “Minor blips aside. I’m proud of you.”

Albus pauses for a second, frowning, then he shakes his head. “You’re weird sometimes.”

Scorpius grins. “Isn’t that why you married me?”

“Well, yes, but...” 

“Exactly.”

They pause, looking at each other, then Albus smiles, shaking his head, and Scorpius’s grin widens. 

“Shall we go and get a drink upstairs?” He asks. “I’m dying for a cup of tea.”

Albus sighs happily. “I can get a coffee. Let’s do it.” He turns Scorpius’s chair round and is about to start wheeling him off down the corridor when they hear a soft, small voice behind them – a little girl’s voice. 

“Scorpius?”

Albus stops dead, and turns Scorpius back round so they can both see Jo standing in the doorway to her room, one hand on the doorframe for support. 

Scorpius swallows then smiles. “Hi. How are you?”

She nods. “Okay. I think.” She stands there and doesn’t say anything, and Scorpius guesses she doesn’t know what to do or say next. 

“How are your parents?” He prompts gently. 

Jo nods again, twisting her hands together. “They missed me.”

“Are you glad to have them back?”

Jo glances over her shoulder and gives a tiny shrug. “I-I don’t know yet...” She watches her parents through the window for a moment longer then steps out of the doorway and starts walking towards Albus and Scorpius with small, unsteady steps. “They don’t hate me,” she says. “They’re not scary. They don’t make me want to do bad things...” She stops in front of Scorpius and stares down at her hands like she hopes she can find answers to his question there. “I like you and Albus,” she whispers finally. “My mum and dad are new, and different, and...” She draws in a breath and looks up at Scorpius with deep concern in her eyes. “They cry a lot,” she confides. “My mum cries a lot. I… I don’t understand what I did to make her so sad... What’s wrong with me?”

“Oh,” Scorpius breathes. “Jo... there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“But-“

Scorpius glances at Albus for help. 

“Sometimes people cry not just because they’re sad,” Albus explains. “It’s very weird. But I think your mum might be overwhelmed,” he says. 

“Overwhelmed,” Jo repeats dubiously. “That sounds bad.”

“A lot of things have happened recently,” Albus says. “To you, and to her and your dad.”

“And she’s probably happy too,” Scorpius adds. “To have you back. Happy and relieved. Because you’re alive and I think she was probably very worried that you might not be.”

“Oh,” Jo says, still frowning. “I still don’t know if I understand.”

“Most of the time I don’t understand either,” Albus reassures her.

Jo looks at him. “Really? Okay...”

There’s a long silence after that, in which Jo seems to struggle with the concept of her parents crying but still being happy, Albus says nothing, and Scorpius doesn’t really know how to say to her what he wants to say. Finally he gathers his thoughts together. 

“Jo?” He murmurs. 

She lifts her head and looks at him. “Yes?”

He slides out of the wheelchair and kneels on the floor opposite her. It makes her just a tiny bit taller than him. “I just...” He swallows. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me. I-I don’t know what I did to make you want to do that, but thank you. And I hope everything will work out well for you.”

Jo looks at him. “I think...” she starts then trails off. “I think you’re the sort of person who wants to help people,” she says. “And I think Albus is too. And I knew you weren’t going to hurt me. Evie said a lot of the time that she wanted to help me but I don’t think she ever did anything good for me. But you did. So I like you. And I didn’t want you to die...” she pauses. “I hope you can help other people like you helped me. I think that would be good.”

Scorpius looks into her eyes for a moment, and they’re not black like they were the other day. They’re a sort of pale amber colour, and there’s a determined spark of life in them. He glances back at Albus as an idea strikes him, then he looks back at Jo again and nods. 

“I think it would be too.”

 

**_Four weeks later, the bakery_ **

“Your pain au chocolat, your highness,” Albus says, putting the plate down on the table in front of Scorpius. “And whatever this disgusting thing is.” He sets Scorpius’s drink down next to it, some sort of awful chocolatey caffeine fuelled monstrosity, topped off with a mountain of whipped cream. 

“That,” Scorpius says, “is a tiramisu hot chocolate. Don’t you love Muggle inventions?”

Albus pulls a face, and unloads his triple shot of espresso and cinnamon whirl from the tray. “Usually, but not that one. I don’t think anyone who drinks things like that is responsible enough to have a child.”

“Says you,” Scorpius says, flicking his finger against Albus’s coffee cup. 

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” Albus takes a bite of his cinnamon whirl and tries to look serene and innocent while chewing. Scorpius rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“You’re ridiculous.” He leans down under the table and pulls out his rolls of parchment and a quill. “Here’s our list.”

Albus has to chew for several seconds longer, swallow three times, and take a sip of his coffee before he manages to speak. “Where do you want to start?”

Scorpius shrugs. “At the top? There’s just one more thing I want to add.” He pulls the parchment towards him and scribbles something right at the top of the pros list, before sliding it back into the middle of the table. 

Scorpius’s handwriting is an illegible scrawl, so Albus has to squint and work very hard to make out what he’s written, but eventually he deciphers the words. 

_We can help other kids like Jo._  

Albus swallows and looks across at Scorpius, lowering his voice. “Do we even need to discuss this? Isn’t it obvious what we’re going to decide?”

Scorpius looks at him. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think it probably is, but...” his gaze lingers on the first few bullet points on the cons list ( _busy jobs, Albus might not come home one day, can we do a good enough job?_ ). “I think we should talk about it all properly, and work out what we can do to make it easier. And I worked really hard on this list. I don’t want it to be useless.”

Albus nods. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s start at the top then. What do we do about our ridiculous jobs?”

“Persuade your dad and my boss to give us another month’s holiday?” Scorpius suggests. 

Albus sighs. “I thought we were doing this seriously.”

“Oh I’m deadly serious,” Scorpius deadpans. 

“ _Scorpius_...” 

“Fine,” Scorpius says. He takes a bite of his pain au chocolat and looks down at the first bullet point.

Over the next few hours, accompanied by caffeine, pastries, and several brioche rolls that Scorpius keeps stopping to rave about, they slowly start to draw together a plan...


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting late, and Scorpius is waiting anxiously for Albus to come home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone out there for reading this fic, and a special thanks to all the people who've left such amazing comments. It's always very much appreciated. 
> 
> The biggest thanks has to go to my beta Abradystrix, as always, and this chapter is for her. 
> 
> I've already started working on the next fic, which is something a little bit different, so watch this space...

Scorpius is sitting cross-legged on the sofa, in his pyjamas. He’s trying to read but he’s exhausted. His eyes keep flickering shut, and when he manages to get them open they feel like sandpaper and the light is too bright. The words swim in front of him and he has no idea what he’s trying to read. Something about minor spell damage and the ways it exacerbates and distorts more serious conditions. At least that’s what he thought it was about when he started trying to read two hours ago, before he began to fall asleep. 

He glances up at the clock and sees it’s approaching midnight. Albus should have been home hours ago. There’s been no word all evening. He was out on a raid this morning. Maybe he’s still out. Maybe he’s not coming back...

Scorpius rubs his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. He should go to sleep. Time moves faster when he’s asleep. If he goes to bed Albus might be lying beside him when he wakes up. But he’d wanted to talk to Albus about how his day had gone. He’d wanted some time alone with his husband, because those precious moments when it’s just the two of them are scarcer than ever these days. 

He gets up off the sofa and pads across to the kitchen to get a drink. It’s not just his eyes that are dry but his throat too. 

As he goes he glances at the fire to see if there’s any sign of a message having been sent, but the embers are still glowing a low, dull red. The flames went out hours ago while Scorpius was reading, and nothing has rekindled them since. There’s no sign of an owl either, and a Patronus would have woken him – they’re bright enough to wake the dead. 

He picks up a plastic mug with a design of Snitches, brooms, and stars on it, because it’s the closest one to him, and fills it with water. The tap drips in the still, silent house as he leans against the side and drinks. There’s barely a sound aside from that tap, just his own breathing and heart beat, and the creak of stairs out in the hall. 

He freezes. The stairs shouldn’t be creaking. Albus isn’t here, and- He sets his cup down on the side and crosses the kitchen back into the living room, picking up a stray Exploding Snap card and a little pink cardigan on the way so no one trips on them in the dark once he finally turns the lights off and goes to bed. He’s almost at the door to the hall when it starts inching open, and a second later a little face peeps round it and stares at him with wide, frightened eyes. 

“Daddy?” 

Scorpius sighs with relief and runs a hand across his face. At least he’s not going mad and hearing things. “Lucy. What are you doing up? I thought you were fast asleep.”

The door opens the rest of the way, and Lucy steps into the living room. She still looks half asleep, and she’s hugging her knitted dragon to her chest. Her blanket, which she refuses to go anywhere without, is pooling on the floor by her feet, and it looks like in a minute she’s going to fall over it. 

“I had a nightmare,” she whispers. “And you weren’t in bed. I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

Scorpius goes over and scoops her up in his arms, gathering the blanket up too so he doesn’t fall over it. “Sorry Little Sunshine,” he says, brushing his fingers through her hair and looking at her. “I was down here reading. Are you okay?”

She shrugs and leans against him, burying her face in his shoulder. He hugs her close and presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

She has a lot of nightmares, which he can sympathise with. He used to have them all the time when he was younger, mostly about losing his mum. He often wonders if she has similar ones, but she never wants to talk about them. He spends a lot of time worrying about what goes on inside her head, but she has people she can talk about that sort of thing with and he’s not yet one of those people. He hopes he will be one day. 

“Where’s Auror Daddy?” She asks, voice muffled against his shoulder. That’s how she’s been referring to them since she first dared to think of them as her parents – Auror Daddy and Healer Daddy. They were so thrilled that she referred to them as anything at all that they never thought to try and suggest any possible alternatives, so this is who they are now, and hopefully will continue to be for the rest of their lives. 

“He’s still at work, Luce.” Scorpius gives her another kiss on the forehead and carries her over to the sofa, where he sits down and she curls up against the other arm, avoiding touching his book. 

“You can move that,” he tells her. “If you want to.” 

She considers for a moment, then picks it up and looks at it. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about what happens when people put bad spells on other people,” he explains, trying to restrain his smile at her curiosity. “You know, to hurt them. It’s about how you help make people better.”

“I thought you already knew how to do that,” she says, placing the book on the arm of the chair and shuffling up next to him so she can curl up against his side. “Why do you need to read about it?”

Scorpius wraps an arm round her shoulders and tucks her blanket over her legs to keep her warm. “Because it’s a complicated thing to do, and I always want to keep learning how to do it better.”

“Albus – I mean Auror Daddy – he said you’re the best though. If you’re the best then why would you need to be better?”

Scorpius grins. “Did he say that? Well, even if I was the best, I’d still want to get better, because then I could help more people in different ways that no one has helped them before.”

Lucy pulls a face. “I don’t want to be a Healer. It sounds tricky.” She yawns and closes her eyes, hugging her dragon tighter. “Why is Daddy still at work?” She asks. 

“I’m not sure,” Scorpius says, stroking her shoulder. “He’s probably got lots of things to do, and people to talk to.”

“At nighttime,” she says dubiously. 

Scorpius doesn’t have an answer to that. “I hope he’ll be home soon.”

Lucy nods. “Okay...” she runs her fingers over the soft, worn folds of her blanket. It was one of the last things her mum gave her, and Scorpius knows that that fact awakens painful memories for both himself and Albus. “I’m not going to sleep,” she says, even as she snuggles closer against Scorpius’s side and starts to slump down, eyes squeezed shut against the dim light in the room. “I don’t want to sleep.”

“If you’re tired you should sleep,” Scorpius says, stroking her hair. “If you have another nightmare I’ll be here. Or I can use that spell they showed us that helps keep the dreams away.”

“No,” she whispers. “I want to see Daddy when he gets home. I want to stay awake and see him.” 

“I’ll wake you up when he gets here,” Scorpius promises. 

She opens one bleary eye and looks at him for a second before it flickers closed again and she sighs and starts to relax. “Will you?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, and her body goes limp as she falls asleep. 

Scorpius sits and listens to her soft, peaceful breathing. He runs his fingers through her hair and stares blankly at the clock on the wall. Time passes and he drifts in and out of consciousness, head nodding. 

At one point he startles awake and rubs his eyes. His neck aches and his mouth is dry. He should probably give up and go to bed, but before he manages to do anything about that he’s started to drift away again, Lucy’s tiny body a comforting, warm weight against his side.

The next thing he knows there’s a key rattling in the lock on the front door and he’s wide awake in an instant. He almost shoots straight to his feet, but then he remembers that Lucy’s head is in his lap, so he gently shuffles out from under her, lays her head down on the sofa cushion, and tucks her blanket more securely round her before he rushes for the front door. Thankfully she doesn’t wake up. 

The second he reaches the hallway he sees Albus kicking his shoes off just inside the front door. His hair is a mess, there’s a smudge of ink on his cheek, but he looks unharmed apart from being exhausted. Scorpius leaps on him and hugs him as tight as he can. 

“Albus,” he whispers, the quietest exclamation of jubilant relief he can manage. 

“Hi,” Albus breathes, hugging him back. 

For a moment they squeeze each other, then Scorpius pulls back so he can find Albus’s lips and kiss him. Albus buries his hands in Scorpius’s hair and kisses hard in return. 

“Hi,” Albus whispers again when they part. “I thought you’d be asleep. Why are you awake?”

“Waiting for you,” Scorpius murmurs. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Albus groans. “Unfortunately yes. Why are we whispering?”

Scorpius gestures towards the open living room door. “She’s asleep.”

“On the sofa?” Albus asks. Getting her to sleep in her own bed is an ongoing battle, and Scorpius can see the concern in his husband’s eyes. 

“She had a nightmare,” Scorpius explains as he pulls the door to. “She was doing really well before that.”

Albus nods. 

“Where have you been?” Scorpius hisses once the door is shut. “You should have been here hours ago. Weren’t you on a raid this morning? I thought maybe something had happened. You didn’t send a message.”

Albus groans again and sinks onto the stairs, burying his face in his hands. “It’s been a day,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t call.” He looks up at Scorpius and there are dark circles under his eyes. “The raid was fine. Easy actually. But then I got dragged into a meeting about some stupid Grindylows that are clogging up a sewer – which shouldn’t even be our department, it should be Magical Creatures, but they keep fucking everything up. So I didn’t have time to write up my report, and I was going to call you to say I’d be late, but then Witherson called me to talk about those cursed hourglasses your dad found, and I forgot to call you. The report took hours to write – they always do, and next thing I knew it was after midnight. And now I’m here.” He reaches up for Scorpius’s hand. “I’m really sorry I forgot to call. I’ve been stressed. It’s like the department fell apart while I was away, and now I’m back I have to piece it together again. Three days in and it’s utter madness. I hope yours isn’t this chaotic when you go back. Healers are organised, right?”

Scorpius leans down and hugs him. “I haven’t seen your hair this stressed in months.”

Albus grips him around the middle and draws in a deep breath. “I’m having a lie in tomorrow.”

Scorpius smiles. “You’ll be lucky.”

“Going for a walk with you and Lucy counts as a lie in,” he says.

“I’ll remind you of that when you’re grumbling about being woken up too early,” Scorpius says, ruffling his hair. “Come on, if you go to sleep now we might have some hope of you joining us. Your daughter wants to say goodnight by the way.”

Albus pulls back and looks up at Scorpius, eyes brighter all of a sudden. “She does?”

Scorpius nods. “I promised I’d wake her up when you got back so she could see you.”

Albus still looks exhausted, but his expression softens, and he gets to his feet. “Alright. We can see if we can get her back to bed too.”

“It sounds like you’ve done harder things today.” Scorpius wraps an arm round Albus’s waist and kisses him on the cheek. Albus leans against him as they nudge the living room door open and go back inside. When they get to the sofa Albus steps out of Scorpius’s grip and kneels down next to Lucy, gently stroking her cheek until her eyes flutter open and she peers blearily at him. 

“Hi, Sunbeam,” he murmurs. “Sorry I’m so late.”

“Daddy!” Lucy’s eyes fly open, and in an instant the blanket has fallen off her, she’s abandoned her dragon, and she’s flown into a rather surprised Albus’s arms. He almost falls off balance, because he clearly wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic reaction, but he stays up and holds her tight in his arms, eyes closed, and broad smile glowing on his face. 

“Hello,” he says, rubbing her back. 

“I was waiting for you to come home,” she tells him. “I wasn’t asleep.”

He stands up, still carrying her. “No, I know you weren’t.”

“Okay,” she says, snuggling against him and closing her eyes again. “I’ll go to sleep now though. Now I know you’re home.”

Albus turns around and grins at Scorpius, who can’t help but smile back. There’s a warm, joyful glow growing inside his chest at the sight of his husband and daughter together, and the fact that she’s so happy to see her dad. It’s been a long, hard road getting here, and it’s not going to be an easy journey ahead, but moments like this are worth every second of hardship and uncertainty. They’re worth every long day at work, every argument, every sleepless night, every bit of pain and stress, every curse. These are the moments they want to keep saving the world, and each other, for. 

Lucy lays her head on Albus’s shoulder, and he murmurs something in her ear that makes her smile and shush him. As the two of them head up to bed, Scorpius picks up the dragon and the blanket that she never goes anywhere without, which she’s left discarded on the sofa for the first time since they met her almost a year and a half ago, and follows behind them. Lucy leaving the blanket is a tiny thing, but it makes Scorpius’s heart feel very light, and he hopes it’s the sort of thing that Jo – and their parents – would be proud of. 

**THE END**


End file.
